Bon Appetite
by Cliscia
Summary: Oh, if only everything was a dream. Where cellophane flowers are not reality, and Kyle is abducted by something not of this Earth. Style. Cryle. alien!Stan, gore/cannibalism/vore
1. Chapter 1

**This thing is fucking sick man, lolol. But it's lovely, so long as you keep an open mind. **

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There were few things that Kyle enjoyed doing more than homework. It was relaxing, a nice stress reliever. Or, at least, for him. He, who paid attention during class. It was simple, hardly a challenge, and a nice way to wind down the day.

Kyle chewed the eraser end of his pencil, before popping it out of his mouth and tapping it on his table. What did the endocrine system catalyze? Oh, he remembered this, yet, it was on the tip of his tongue, and not his paper. This annoyed him, and he groaned, slumping over his desk and scratching his head. He looked to his window and played with a curl. It seemed to be darker than normal for a Saturday afternoon. Windy, too.

Kenny had left his house far too late that day, and he needed to get his homework done to relax. He couldn't do this with the weather distracting him. So standing up, he walked over to his window, and slammed it shut, his curtains rustling with distaste at the harsh treatment. Kyle frowned. There, much better.

The lamp on his desk flickered as he slouched back into his swivel chair and picked up his pencil. He resumed tapping. Now, was it the adrenal cortex or the anterior pituitary that caused gigantism? It had to be the adrenal cortex, right? That was where the tumor grew that caused the mutation, right? Yes, that had to be right. Kyle scribbled down the answer, feeling pleased with himself. Zoology wasn't that hard, and anatomy was simple. He was human, wasn't he? So he should know the parts of the body without question. He was human. There was nothing unfamiliar on this assignment.

Passing the night by with more questions and answers, Kyle finally yawned and looked over at his clock. Eleven fifteen, an okay time to go to bed on Saturday. Maybe he'd play Game Sphere a while before sleeping, get to level eighty or so… Kyle yawned again. Or not, he was pretty tired. He could always invite Kenny back over tomorrow to play; his character always got killed early, a great way to advance Kyle's level. Maybe even Cartman would be up for it, if he decided to watch his mouth. Multiplayer was always more fun, anyway.

Kyle stood up and stretched. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a large t-shirt, unchanging and redressing quickly for bed. Scratching his arm, he flicked off his table lamp and moved to turn off his overhead light as well. Finishing his before-bed rituals, Kyle finally yawned again, and slumped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling and not bothering to get under the covers.

Almost instantaneously, he was asleep.

And almost instantaneously, he was awake again. Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Jerking up straight in bed, Kyle looked around his dark room, his heart beating wildly. A nightmare. Tentacles, taking him from his home, eating him.

'A dream,' Kyle reassured himself, 'just a stupid dream.'

Relaxing, Kyle laid back down, and put an arm over his eyes. Great. Now he certainly wasn't tired anymore. He looked over to his alarm clock. One fifteen. He rolled onto his side, pulling the sheets up to his shoulders, the soft tick, tick, ticking of the clock grating inside his mind.

The wind from earlier picked up, and it had begun to rain. Violently. This didn't help Kyle's frazzled nerves one bit, so he rolled onto his stomach and pressed his face into his pillow. He felt safer, then. But there was nothing to worry about. He was seventeen, far too old to be scared of a thunderstorm. But its power at least intimidated him just a small fraction of an iota. …What was he kidding. Kyle was afraid of the dark and he always had been. It was just… so unknown.

Ever since he was a child, it had always scared him. There was something eerie about it, and not in the simple way. It was as if the boogey man actually existed, but not tangibly. Darkness didn't fit in with the earth's vibrant life. The darkness was alien, unfamiliar, and what Kyle didn't understand, he was scared of.

Wait

Was there something dripping?

Kyle leaned his head up and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes took a while to adjust to the dark, but he could clearly see something dripping from his windowsill. It must be raining, then. Feeling too tired to deal with it, he turned back around and laid his head back. He'd clean up the water in the morning, it couldn't do that much damage over night.

But still. Drip. Drip. Drip.

He grabbed his pillow and covered it over his ears. He couldn't take it, it was driving him insane! He couldn't sleep like this. The wind wasn't helping either- Suddenly, it stopped, and everything was silent. No wind, no dripping, no rain pattering against his window. In fact, it was a little too quiet.

Looking back over his shoulder, Kyle froze.

There was something there. On his bed. A shape, a form. Kyle's blood ran cold. He could see on his bed sheets where its weight pressed down. It was a sort of striated shape, and he watched as it slowly began to morph.

What. The. Hell.

A boy. Suddenly, it was a boy, his own age. He couldn't see his (its?) face, but it stared at him, and he saw its piercing blue eyes. Frozen in place, Kyle stared back, and his hands gripped his blanket in a death grip. Suddenly, it moved its head to the side. This catalyst caused Kyle to scramble up against his bedframe, heart beating unbearably fast. W-What was going on? What was this- this- _thing_!? Was this still part of his nightmare? Kyle let out a high sort of keening noise, and his eyes widened when the thing reached out its hand. It motioned forward from its crouching position.

"Come." His voice was honey smooth, slick, and heavy as it reached his ears. There was something haunting about that voice, not quite right, not quite-

_Human._

It made him shudder, but still, Kyle did not move. The figure motioned for him again, and Kyle realized that they wore no clothes, but yet, did not seem to be naked, missing nipples and a penis. Kyle gulped, but did not move.

"Come to me." It persisted, his hand still outstretched for Kyle to see. "You come."

Kyle shook his head violently, his brain not working correctly. He couldn't think straight, and somehow he knew that it had something to do with the figure on his bed. The figure's expression did not change, and its hand did not move.

"You will _come_."

And then Kyle felt something around his ankle, which jerked him towards the figure, his head knocking against his bed frame. He looked down. A tentacle. Kyle screamed, which caught the figure off guard, and it looked around worriedly, as if knowing his parents would come rushing in at any moment.

"No, bad!" A quiet hiss.

Kyle watched as the outstretched hand morphed the same way the water did, into the figure. It formed quickly, into another tentacle, and he watched in horror as the appendage opened its mouth, revealing a sharp needle like object inbedded inside it. His heart rate increased and his stomach churned, making him feel suddenly sick with fear. His hypothalamus kicked into action subconsciously as the tentacle darted towards him. Fight or flight?

"Stop i-!"

But Kyle had no time to finish his plea, before the needle suddenly lodged itself in his neck. His mouth stayed open, ready to form the next syllable, but unable to through shock. The figure moved, then, and Kyle shivered as it touched the side of his face. Feeling something cool rush through his body, Kyle glanced down. The tentacle was pumping something into his neck in large doses, making him shudder uncontrollably.

"Shh, you alright. You be still now. It good for you." The figure reached his side, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down to lay flat against his bed. Kyle's brain began to shut down, and he was unable to process what was happening, apart from the fact that it was breathing, and then suddenly everything was very still and silent.

* * *

"Quiet. You be good."

Kyle's eyes hurt. There was a bright light, right over him. He groaned. Was it morning already? Sure was bright for a Sunday…

"You wake up now?"

Ah, that didn't sound like Ike, or his father. Definitely not his mother. …Kenny? Cartman? It didn't sound like anyone he knew. Daring to open his eyes, Kyle regretted it.

The first thing he noticed was that there was, indeed, a bright light above him, not unlike the one that the dentist used on him. It shined down on him, making him squint his eyes so far that he could barely see the rest of the room. Or at least, that's what he thought it was. It was entirely round, and white, no furniture anywhere. Not a couch or a bed or a nightstand. The only thing in the room was the light above him, and the table he was strapped down to.

Strapped down to.

With wires connected to his skin.

Naked.

His heart began pounding at an incredible speed, and with every thump, something above him made a beeping noise. Where- where was he? Was this still a nightmare? But- it had to be. There could be no explanation, and dreams didn't need explanations.

"Good boy, you awake."

Kyle jerked his head to the side, just then noticing the room's only other occupant. It was the figure, but now, Kyle could see him clearly. They did in fact look his age, seventeen, give or take. Black hair covered their head, and Kyle recognized instantly those deep blue eyes. This time, they wore clothes. A dark brown jacket with red cuffs. Kyle felt instantly more naked then he already was, as if the boy's stare went right through him and saw everything that was inside him, and that he thought.

"Where- where am I?" He had to remain level headed. Panicking would get him nowhere. Cool and collected, cool and collected… Perhaps this was a ransom situation. Always intelligent, Kyle listed off every possible reason he could be in a stark white room, strapped down to an operating table, with wires taped to his bare skin. The only things that he could think of scared the living shit out of him.

"You with me." The boy looked down at him, and took a step forward. Kyle flinched.

"I-I mean-" Kyle gulped, catching his stutter. "I mean, where is _here_."

"…Oh, this my ship."

"Your- your ship?" Kyle's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked up, terrified.

The boy looked at him as though he was stupid. "Yes, stupid boy. We go away, I not stay Earth. We go to my planet."

"YOUR- YOUR _WHAT!?" _Kyle suddenly screeched. This was becoming a horrible, horrible dream. More then anything, at that moment, Kyle wanted to be back at home. He would even settle for waking up.

Laughing. The boy laughed at him, and he finished stepping over to his side. He reached out a hand and Kyle instantly recoiled. But there was not much room to move away to, and without consent, the boy flattened his hair back away from his forehead and leaned down.

"You not know? You not ever met Another?"

His voice was quiet, and he heard it quaver. "A- a what?" Almost a whisper.

The boy looked away, his hand still on his forehead (Kyle noticed how cold his hand felt). He glanced back, and his face lit up, as if remembering something. "You call- you call an alien."

An alien. Oh. That made sense.

"An… alien." Kyle closed his eyes, shuddering as he felt the bo- _alien's_ hand continue to rub his forehead. Ah, this made sense… What a horrible, horrible dream. Kyle wanted to go _home._ He gulped, not ready to ask his next question. "…Why me?"

"No reason. I come down, I pick shelter, I take you. You healthy, you be good eat, pretty pretty if I sell." The hand moved down to his cheek, his bangs flopping back down over his forehead, and this time, he felt the alien shudder. "Yes… pretty pretty. Taste so good…"

Kyle screamed, and thrashed. The alien recoiled, its eyes widening before calming just after. He screamed and screamed, clenching his hands beneath the straps that held him down. There was no way he was going to be eaten by an alien! There was no way! Instantly, Kyle knew that this was one of the most terrifying dreams he had ever had. Even his nightmares were never this clear, and never lasted this long.

"Calm, calm!" The alien boy stepped back towards him, and grabbed his leg, gripping underneath his knee harshly, making Kyle scream in pain. That was not human strength. He convulsed and spasmed, forcibly calming himself so that his breaths came in short little gasps. He squeezed his eyes shut. So scared…

"Good boy, you very good boy, you good. Stay, quiet. Good boy…" The alien patted his stomach, running his fingers over his skin. Kyle felt sick. "I not eat you now, too skinny, too pretty, lots to enjoy. You no worry, I just taste."

Breath ghosted over his skin. Kyle heard the heart monitor above him beep quicker as the alien's lips passed over his own. No… This wasn't what his first kiss was supposed to be like, not even in a nightmare. The alien mouthed at him hungrily, licking the side of his mouth, tasting whatever inch of skin he could find, as if he trying to eat him. But just taste, he had said. He was tasting him.

Kyle's mouth was forced open when the alien's tongue turned into a tentacle, worming its way inside his mouth. His eyes flew open, and the alien looked up at him. Their gazes locked before the alien slowly closed his eyes and resumed mouthing at him. He sucked on his tongue, and Kyle whimpered as he felt him bite down slightly. He didn't want to die like this!

The tasting continued all over his body, the alien nipping at his skin, sometimes getting a little too carried away and drawing blood, making Kyle sob. He was so scared. He wanted to wake up, he wanted to go home and go play Game Sphere with Kenny, and argue with Cartman. He wanted to help his brother with homework and finish cleaning for his mother. The last thing he wanted was to have a nightmare where an alien sampled him and sucked blood from where he had been bitten. Kyle felt the saliva from the alien dry, making the area where he was currently sucking on feel even more wet with hungry drool. It was if the alien was famished.

"P-please-" Kyle managed between hiccups, "stop it, I want to go h-home."

The alien hummed, and looked up at him, lifting his head up, mouth making a slight sucking noise.

"This home now. Here. I take care of you, so delicious. I make you fat."

Kyle sobbed harder, shaking his head back and forth. Terror surged through his body like an electrical current. This was so screwed up. What had he done that day to dream such a thing?

Pity seemed to cross the alien's face, and again he pressed his hand to his forehead. "What your name?"

"K-Kyle." He managed to force out, taking gulps of air before speaking. Tears seemed to clog up his windpipe. He couldn't breathe well through the stress. "…Yours?" Perhaps if he got on the alien's good side…

Although the alien opened its mouth and made sounds, they were like nothing Kyle had ever heard before. Its name sounded like a mixture between a groan and chirping, if possible. Again, he shuddered.

"I take out you tongue, then you say name right. Human you no say my name right, you not able. " The alien seemed to ponder this, and again Kyle started crying. It looked down at him, and pet him on the cheek, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up.

"Cry not good. Stress make bad taste." As if to punctuate this, the alien kissed him on the lips, pulling away slowly as if from an exotic dish. "I get you food now. You eat. Later you sleep. Lots of rest, you see it nice."

The alien's touch left, and Kyle opened his eyes, more tears leaking out of the corners. He saw as his back turned, and began to walk out of the room. A sliding door hissed open when he reached it. The alien paused, and then turned back towards him. "You call me Stan. Nice human name. I Stan."

"…Stan." Kyle whispered, the name sounding harsh against his tongue.

Kyle's crying did not stop, and he refused the food that Stan brought back to him. Stan was not pleased with this, and forced the alien food into his mouth. Something within it sparked a response inside of him, and Kyle cried as his body hungered for more. He shook as Stan smiled and fed him the rest of the food, something slimy and thick, but it- it tasted so good, and Kyle could not consciously stop himself from eating. It was drugged. Or not, it was alien, after all. Kyle ate so that Stan could feast in the future.

He wanted to wake up.

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**Review and Kyle won't be eaten for another chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm really thankful for all of the reviews~ I just got into this fandom, so the more you review, the faster I update. AND LOOK, I'M STAYING TRUE TO MY WORD. ALREADY AN UPDATE oh so delicious. (Literally)**

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It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream, and Kyle was hysterical.

It took him a while to wake up and analyze his surroundings. He had believed that he had been at home, at first, but then when he rubbed his eyes and looked again, memories of the night rained down on him. Panic seized his body, taking control of his mind by a leash and tugging him to the brink of insanity. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think through the terror. Kyle had pinched himself over and over, begging to wake up, but he felt the pain and the fear. He bit himself multiple times, anything to create enough pain to wake up from the horrible, horrible dream.

But it wasn't a dream. None of it had been a dream. He was in another white room, cluttered with alien fabric, fabric that could be shaped to fit whatever form he desired. And along the walls, were windows. Many, many windows. Windows that showed what was outside.

Blackness. The void of space.

Kyle had hyperventilated when he first realized exactly what was happening. It couldn't- be real. But it was. He rocked, back and forth upon the floor. He didn't remember getting there, or falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was food, foreign tasting food, not quite spicy, not quite sweet, but a mixture of every taste he could think of. He continued rocking, clawing at his arms. Maybe if he bled to death, he could escape- But that was the problem. Kyle didn't believe what was happening, and most of all, Kyle didn't want to die.

The first step of grief is always denial.

He grabbed at his hair, and stopped rocking. His eyes wide, Kyle shook. His teeth chattered and his breathing increased. This wasn't happening. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. No, no no nonono! This was all wrong! He was seventeen, he was supposed to be at his home, learning how to drive, playing Game Sphere with his friends, getting a girlfriend and taking her to prom, not- not- not here. But he wasn't 'here', he couldn't be. None of it could be real. Kyle panicked.

Why? Why was he here? What had he done to have damned himself to such a place? But he wasn't there, he wasn't there in the first place. Yes, he was still at home, sleeping, dreaming. Yes, he h-had to be dreaming, there was no other explanation. A dream, a dream, a dream!

Kyle screamed, suddenly. Threw back his head and screamed bloody murder. Terrified. He pounded his fists on the ground, nails ripping through the material that he sat on, and felt the fabric shape around his fingers, trapping his hands down, catching him as if it knew his anguish and tried to keep him from hurting himself farther.

There was nothing he could do but scream. Maybe he would be saved, his mother would come running into his room and wake him up, relieving him from this horrible, horrible place. As Kyle screamed, he again, began to cry. It humiliated him, a grown boy crying. Boys didn't cry, he was supposed to be a man. But he couldn't help it. He was terrified. There was nothing he could do, his hands restrained, locked inside a white room.

Through his anguish, Kyle didn't hear the hissing noise of the door opening. He continued to sob and scream, jerking his arms away from the ground, his hand coming free with a 'pop'.

His screams stopped suddenly when he felt a hand on the side of his face. Eyes jerking open, he hiccupped slightly with fear when he found he was face forward to the alien. To- Stan. That's what he had called himself. Stan.

They stared at each other for a while, neither moving nor saying anything. Silence stretched out for a long period of time. Faintly, Kyle heard footsteps outside his prison, and his heart dropped when they receded down what he supposed was a hall. Maybe they could have saved him… Then again, it was doubtful. It was highly more than likely that- the person- was an alien as well, and not a person at all.

"No more crying." Kyle jerked and looked up at Stan. He had almost forgotten that he was there. Aware of his presence, the hand on his face felt suddenly freezing.

"F-Fuck you." Kyle swore, and leaned away. He stood up slowly and shakily, looking around for a weapon. Picking up a square, metal object, he held it in front of him as he slowly backed into a corner of the room, right in the junction of the wall and the window. He glared at Stan. Stan looked back at him, calmly, and bile rose in his throat as he saw one of Stan's arms morph into another one of those tentacles. It seemed to be a subconscious reaction, because Stan didn't notice it a bit.

Stan leaned his head to the side, confused. "Word I not know. What is a fuck."

Kyle didn't reply. He narrowed his eyes farther when the alien tried advancing on him. "Stay away!"

A smile graced Stan's lips. He made a purring noise, and the tentacle twitched on the ground. "I no need Kyle, you mine. Now you shh. I make you come." He continued to advance on him, and Kyle shivered, terrified. This was not happening! The rush of emotions made him light headed. There was too much new information to take in all at once. Scared, so scared.

"C-Come near me and I break this window open!" Kyle knew that he couldn't survive in the vacuum of space, and probably, neither could the alien. It was a gamble, but he'd much rather die suffocating then die being eaten by an alien.

Stan laughed and Kyle tightened his hold on the object, which began beeping and making a whirring noise. In the back of his mind (the part of his mind that wasn't focused on terror, controlled by his hypothalamus, anyway), he wondered what it was.

"Silly, come. I not hurt. Window not break, not like Earth window, made out of Nesphytio, not break ever, found on planet Aiew, never break." Stan motioned for him, and Kyle's heart beat rapidly. There was only one way to find out.

Perhaps it was irrational, but Kyle slammed the object against the window anyway. He watched as it smashed into thousands of pieces, the window not following suit. His blood ran cold as he realized that all it had accomplished was to inbed pieces of glass from the object into his hand, instead of breaking the window. He choked, eyes widening as he fell to the floor, cradling his hand. That had hurt, badly. He hadn't realized that the object was made out of such delicate material.

Stan reached his side in record time, tentacle wrapping around his midsection, holding him still. Kyle screeched, but the alien didn't mind. He beat his hands against Stan's shoulder, trying desperately to get away. Struggling hardly helped with Stan's alien strength, and Kyle resumed sobbing. He was scared. Very, very scared. He was in a captive situation, and didn't understand what was happening. Was he truly not on Earth? And if so… what could he _do_? He couldn't escape, and that was truly the most petrifying aspect. There was no escape in space, having no knowledge of intergalactic travel. Hell, he couldn't even operate a plane, how could he manage to operate an alien space craft?

As he hyperventilated to himself, Stan sat down next to him and patted him on the leg, reaching up to grab one of his hands, the hand that he had gotten glass in. He tried jerking away, but to no avail. Stan eyed his hand. He looked down at it, as if assessing the damage. Then, without warning, Stan leaned down and sucked on his palm.

Kyle shuddered as he felt Stan's tentacle tongue glide over his hand, carefully picking out the pieces of glass and spitting them away. His hand was clear of glass in a matter of minutes. But still, he bled. That, too, Stan fixed. He resumed licking his hand, sucking up the blood from his palm as the tentacle around his waist massaged his stomach gently. Stan lapped at his hand, eyes closed, enjoying the meal. Again Kyle shuddered.

"You taste so good." Stan's eyes flicked up to his own. Kyle stared back, transfixed with fear and morbid fascination at his oddly shaped pupils. "You are cold?"

Kyle hadn't even noticed his own shivering as he looked down at his naked body to confirm the question. He felt shamed, and moved to hide his private parts. Terror was replaced with anger and humiliation. The second stage of grief; rage.

"Of course I'm fucking cold! You take me hear, you strip ne naked, and leave me in a room with no bed!" Kyle screamed, growing so angry that he no longer shook from fear.

Again Stan looked confused. "No bed? But I make you nest. Nice, good F'Eflin." Stan patted the fluffy fabric material that surrounded them. Kyle didn't understand his alien language. He didn't know what the material had been. As far as he knew, it could have been flavoring, so that he was savory when Stan decided to eat him.

"I don't want your _crap!_" Kyle fumed, struggling harder and wrenching his hand out of Stan's grip. Stan allowed him this movement, and watched as he continued to thrash. It seemed to amuse him. He smiled as he watched him struggle, licking his lips.

Eventually, Kyle tired. There was just no use. Stan was too strong. The tentacle around him had turned back into the alien's arm at some point. But even then he couldn't escape. It was futile, and Kyle eventually just slumped in the crook of his arm, breathing heavily.

"Good…" Stan seemed to be pleased that he had stopped resisting, and licked the side of his face. Kyle hiccupped, and tried digging his nails into his arm, something, anything to hurt him, but his arm turned almost goo-like when he tried. "You eat now?" He was excited, and stood up, hauling Kyle up with him. Kyle struggled for a moment longer before again collapsing, and moaning out a loud 'no.'

This didn't seem to deter Stan in the slightest. He hummed and moved to the door, which hissed open when he set his hand on it. Kyle was left alone in the room for a while, laying still on the fluffy material, again aware that he was naked. Maybe he could make some makeshift clothes out of it… But it didn't seem like it would rip. Kyle vaguely wondered about the properties of the foreign material.

Tears returned to his eyes as he waited for Stan. He slumped over onto his side, staring at the white F'Eflin, poking at it. He didn't want to be here. He didn't know what was going on. And suddenly, it him.

An alien.

He was with an alien.

Aliens _existed_.

He began to hyperventilate, pupils dialating. What was happening, what was going on, why was he here, why wasn't this a _dream_.

Because it wasn't, was it? It wasn't a dream, not a nightmare. It was actually happening. He could feel the fabric beneath his body, smell the harsh scent in the air, see outside into the void of space as they passed thousands of tiny pinprick stars. Everything was alien. Everything. There was nothing familiar here. This wasn't Earth. This wasn't Earth, and Kyle felt suddenly _alone_.

Why him? Why had he been brought here? It was just- too- surreal. He remembered back to watching all of those alien abduction shows on the History Chanel (which had gone to crap, he might add). He had thought those people had been insane, sobbing on TV about how scared they were to get visited at night, how the aliens would return, conduct tests on them. His blood ran cold. He had thought those people were crazy. But that's what Stan had said. He wanted to not just conduct experiments on him, but _eat_ him. Suddenly, Kyle was alone.

Very, very alone. Alone, with no one to run to and no one to cry to. His parents were gone, his brother, gone. Alone. No more school. No more friends. No more homework. No more _life_. But this couldn't be happening. He had an AP exam tomorrow. He couldn't- he couldn't _be_ here! He had to live, he had a life to lead!

The door opened with another hissing noise. Stan stepped into the large room, carrying a tray of foreign, disgusting smelling food. It jiggled as he walked. Stan neared his side and knelt down next to him, patting his head and ignoring his tears. Kyle stared out into space (a horrible, horrible pun, in his situation), and ignored him back.

"Eat." Stan commanded, setting down the tray. He picked up something that looked like a fork but with curved tips, twisting around some of the green stringy concoction that he had brought with him. He offered it to Kyle, smiling, but Kyle refused. Stan was very patient.

"You must eat."

"Why." Kyle looked up at him, fearful. Stan was an alien. An alien. And he planned on eating him. Terror bit at his heart.

"You not get fat you not eat. Eat lots, good for you. Too skinny Earth boy. We go my home planet, you eat lots more." Stan persisted, thrusting his hand forward again for him to take a bite.

"I don't want any." He moaned, curling up away from Stan. He felt a hand on his waist and Stan moved him back onto his back.

"You no choice, you eat. Much good food is, you see."

When Kyle refused for a third time, Stan merely 'humphed' and grabbed his chin, prying his mouth open. Kyle's eyes widened as Stan stuffed the stuff down his throat. It was repulsive. It tasted like rotten milk and eggs. It was slimy, like eating a banana peel soaked in Vaseline. He gagged at the taste, and sat straight up, moaning as he clawed at his tongue. Stan watched him, fascinated as he ate a bit of it himself.

But just as the night before, Kyle felt something go off in his brain. The food triggered something within him that yearned for more, and suddenly, it tasted delicious. He lunged at it, although part of his brain told him still to not give in. Stan smiled at him, and offered him more of it on the fork-like object. Kyle opted for grabbing the bowl instead, and slurping it down.

The food suddenly tasted magnificent, like nothing he had ever tasted, and he hadn't. It was alien. And, it was probably designed for him to grow addicted to it instantly. However, in that moment, he didn't care, and gulped it down in huge proportions. Stan eyed him hungrily, licking his lips.

As Kyle continued to eat, Stan crawled next to him, sitting by his side. He pushed back on Kyle's shoulders and he laid down obediently. As he continued to eat, Stan leaned down and pressed his mouth to his stomach, swirling his tongue along his skin. He could feel the food enter Kyle's body, and could almost feel him digest it, making him crave for the taste of Kyle's body.

Hiccupping, Kyle looked down and set the bowl aside, watching as Stan mouthed at his skin with closed eyes. He bit down on him, taking his skin into his mouth and grinding it against his teeth, but not truly biting. Kyle felt horribly ill.

He thrashed without warning, kicking Stan in the jaw. Stan fell back with an 'oomph', and rubbed his cheek.

"Don't-" Kyle was at a loss for words, and he stumbled over his vocabulary, searching for the right thing. "Please- I don't-"

Stan was silent and continued to watch him, blue eyes cold, with a blank expression on his face. He said nothing, and didn't move. Kyle watched as his fingers began to fuse together and a tentacle resulted because of it, worming around a bit before settling.

"I want to go home."

The third step of grief. Bargaining.

For a while it seemed as though Stan weighed this out in his mind. He closed his eyes, and breathed lightly. "No."

"Please, I- I'll do whatever you want. I don't understand what's happening. I don't want to be here." He choked up, trying to gain composure, but failing. He was crying far too much, but he couldn't help it. Perhaps he wasn't as manly as he should be, but there was no one left to judge him. "I don't understand. I'm scared. I don't want you to touch me. I-I don't want to stay in this room, I want to go back home. I'll give you anything. Money, do you want money? J-Just- please. _Please_."

Stan looked at him as though he was insane. "No. I no let you go, mine now. You happy here, anyway. I make you happy. Lots of food, lots of sleep. What human need you not get? Something I not give you, make you sad?"

"Home." Kyle whispered. "I want to go home."

"Silly." Stan moved to lay next to him, grabbing him by his neck and pulling him closer. Kyle choked, scared of Stan's physical strength, but he let go quickly once his face was in reach. Dangerous. He was dangerous.

Stan smiled before leaning his face in close to Kyle's. He held the back of his hand with the newly formed tentacle, and sucked on his cheek, gnawing on his skin every so often. But Kyle didn't know what to do. What was there to do? There was no where he could run, and Stan had proven time and time again that he was much stronger then he was. Reality hadn't truly hit yet; the reality of where he was and who he was with. All he knew was that he was terrified, and he wanted to go home, badly.

The fourth stage. Depression.

Kyle felt numb as Stan spoke in his alien language, the lights that had illuminated his room flickering off. He cried as Stan pulled him next to him, licking his shoulder. The material around them moved, and he jerked subconsciously closer to Stan, who sucked on his cheek again in response, making him sob harder. In front of them, Kyle stared out into space, shuddering at the feeling of Stan's tentacles opening up to taste him as well. Kyle wanted to be sick. Instead, the food digesting in his stomach kicked into full gear, and he fell asleep as Stan feasted upon his skin.

Step five would never come.

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**Give me a giggly review if you want to eat Stan's giggly food.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I RECEIVED REDICULOUSLY HOT FANART. IF YOU FAPPED TO WRITTEN STAN, GO FAP TO PICTURED STAN. FAPFAPFPAPFAPPAFP SO HAPPY. http:// kyuubikun. deviantart . /art/hey-baby-give-us-a-smile-163863132 Remove the spaces, obviously.**

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Kyle was ready. With his fists up and his feet planted firmly on the ground, he was ready to take out this alien once and for all. He gulped and watched the steel-grey door cautiously and charily. It was a gamble. There was probably a snowflake's chance in hell that he'd be able to beat Stan, but it was worth trying, anyway.

The alien had visited him far too often over the time span of what Kyle guessed to be three days. Though, there was no way to tell since there was no rising or setting sun. In fact, they had passed many suns, and it made Kyle sick to his stomach to imagine how far away from Earth they were. But each time that Stan did show up, he always brought more of that jiggly food. Kyle rejected it, but Stan's strength won him over in the end every time. Without fail.

His fists dropped slightly, and he looked down at his stomach. It gurgled. Whatever that food was didn't settle well in his stomach, and it hurt. It felt like something was moving inside of him… Thankfully, though, he had yet to gain weight, despite the fact that Stan constantly praised him on how much thicker he was getting. Again, Kyle felt sick.

A sudden outburst of steam from an air vent made Kyle jump, and he woke himself out of his daze. He had to keep on the balls of his feet so that he could move quickly. Maybe Stan would bring a knife with him, so that he could slit his throat-

He darted to the side of the room, right next to the door and behind some of the fluffy material so that Stan could not see him. He heard footsteps. Kyle tensed, his heart beating rapidly. The door hissed, and he watched as Stan entered the room.

His expression was imperturbable, and barely reacted when Kyle lunged for him. He swung his fists, and tried to connect with his jaw, but missed as Stan ducked. He dropped the food, but remained low on the ground, in a crouching position.

"Bad, Kyle."

Kyle growled. He hated Stan's way of speaking, hated it so much. The anger within him surged, and he kicked his foot out, aiming for his side. Stan caught his ankle and twisted. Falling to the ground, Kyle swore. It took little time for Stan to get on top of him, pinning him down. Kyle continued to swear, kicking and punching at whatever he could manage. How dare he! How dare he stop him, after Kyle had tried so hard! But he had known it would have been futile, anyway. Stan possessed alien strength and agility, and all Kyle was, was- Human.

He struggled underneath him, groaning as Stan pinned his arms and legs down with various tentacles. Damnit, damnit… Kyle shook in anger and humiliation as Stan licked the sweat off of him that had accumulated in his desperate struggle.

"Very bad, Kyle. Not good. Not you do like that, not good to do like that. Not like you. You good boy, you no fight. Fight bad, fight for bad human." Stan scolded him as he sat on his back, petting his curly red hair. "Why you fight me?" He asked after a while.

"Why do you think." Kyle spat out. He glared up at the alien sitting on him the best he could. Kyle panted from exertion as he gave another sudden outburst of struggling.

"I not know. Not happy?"

"I've told you I'm not! Why the hell would you think I _was?_" Kyle was furious. "You've kidnapped me, held me hostage, told me you're going- going- going to _eat me, JESUS_ you're an _alien_! What- what do you _want_ from me? I can't handle this, I'm going crazy. I want to go _home_." So much crying in the past couple of days… But there was no one around to see. No one but Stan. Stan, who was an _alien_, who didn't follow the human code; boys do not cry.

Stan clicked his tongue, and Kyle watched as it ran over his razor sharp teeth. He shuddered. He hadn't noticed those, before… Fear gripped at his chest, blood running cold. For the first time, possibly, Kyle realized how- _dangerous_ he was. Not just dangerous, but- Deadly. Lethal. Instinct told Kyle to _run._

The alien boy shifted on top of him, and leaned down so that his chest touched his back. "No."

Kyle sobbed. He struggled again, finding it just as useless as before. He wanted to get away. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be anywhere then where he was at that moment in time. It was just so- unreal. How could this be happening to him? He didn't even believe in aliens, how could he- could he- how could he be abducted by one? Horror took his mind over, and he cried harder, twisting as much as he could beneath Stan.

"No cry, here, eat." Stan smiled and pat him on the neck, leaning back and picking up the bowl that he had been carrying before Kyle attacked him. This time, the food was gooey instead of jiggly. Ah, what a change. Stan must have been trying to enhance his diet.

Kyle refused it, keeping his mouth closed shut and turned his head away when Stan offered the food to him on the same sort of fork-like object. His stomach, tied in knots all afternoon, did not feel ready for food. It almost seemed as though his rejection hurt Stan's feelings, for he set down the bowl, and grabbed the back of his neck. Kyle screeched and flailed as Stan grabbed his jaw and opened his mouth, forcibly shoving the food into his mouth.

It tasted sick, just like always. Like leather and horseradish. Kyle tried spitting it out, but Stan kept a firm hold on his jaw. One of the tentacles came up and massaged his throat, forcing him to swallow. Kyle gasped for breath when Stan finally released him. He hiccupped, looking away, crying silently. He wanted more… God damn him, he wanted more. And Stan gave it, looking happy as he fed him.

He ate for a while, just like always, and hungered enough that Stan was able to let him up. Kyle took the bowl into his own hands, and gobbled down the food. He was famished, and it tasted so good. It filled him up and made him feel content, happy, even, as Stan rubbed his stomach with closed eyes and licked his skin. That was, until he finished, and was back in the same horrible mood as before. It was something more than just sadness, it was the utter despondence of the soul.

"Tired?" Stan asked him, examining the fat on his arm.

"Fuck you." Kyle wrenched his arm out of Stan's grip and moved closer to the corner of the room. He felt like an animal, fighting for survival. He was a rabbit in the fox's lair.

"I say again I don't know what is a Fuh-ck." The alien boy busied himself with cleaning up the dishes. He was very orderly, Kyle had come to realize. "But you no tired then lay down. Not sleeping, I give you more Laowynh."

"More- More what?" Kyle questioned the alien word. He realized that the alien words that Stan spoke were always nouns, and only alien because there was no word for them in English, not that Stan was very good at English in the first place.

Stan smiled, showing his jagged canine teeth. "You lay, just lay down. It not hurt, it good for you, good for Kyle." He patted the fluffy bedding material next to him, as if he expected Kyle to obediently come and lay at his feet.

Of course, Kyle refused, and backed up further into the corner, so that he was trapped between the window and the wall.

Frowning, Stan stood, and Kyle balked at his movement. He felt exposed, so he curled his knees up in front of his chest and hid his face in his hands. After a while, he jerked when he felt one of Stan's tentacles slither around his arms and tug his arms away. The tentacles felt not unlike snake skin. He cried out and dug his heels into the ground. Anything to stay away from Stan and his tentacles, as one opened up like a blooming flower to reveal a needle, just like the first night.

"Shh human, it no hurt- well- it hurt at first but it make you good. You no live without Laowynh. You need more in body."

"Get off! Get off get off get off get off!" Terror reflected in his eyes, a dawning horror grabbing hold of his mind. An alien. Stan was an _alien._ He still didn't truly comprehend this fact. He- couldn't. It was too- unearthly.

Stan pet his hair as he flipped him onto his stomach, keeping him held down with the tentacles. His morphed right arm swayed back in front of him as Stan hushed him. It was supposed to calm him. It made him feel like a mouse in front of a viper; petrified.

It shot out quickly, without warning, just as it had the first night, and lodged itself in his neck. Kyle screamed and thrashed, clawing desperately at the ground. Oh god, it hurt so bad. It burned like salt on an open wound, washed off with vinegar. Stan's eyes were closed, and he shuddered as the tentacle began pumping more of the strange liquid into his bloodstream. Continuing to scream, Kyle bloodied his nails, scratching so fiercely at the ground that bits of his nails chipped off. The Laowynh made his body rush cold as ice as it spread throughout his blood, merging itself into his capillaries and tissue.

Eventually, the stinging stopped. Kyle continued to lay underneath Stan, panting, as the liquid came in smaller doses. He watched as it pumped throughout the tentacle like a hose if he were to turn on the faucet.

"It help you breathe." Stan said after a while, when the tentacle pulled out of his neck with a sickening 'pop'. "Human not able to breathe in space. Laowynh help human breathe." He picked up Kyle's hand where his fingers were bloody, and sucked on the digits. Kyle shuddered and sniffed. He felt like a toy. Just a toy. Or- a meal. An animal. Captive.

"I'd rather-" Kyle panted out, gulping in huge portions of air, "Suffocate." He jerked his hand away from Stan's mouth, and shook off the saliva that came with it in disgust.

Looking hurt, Stan straddled his waist and looked down at him. "No. Alive when I eat. Not fun eat when dead."

Oh. Oh- he hadn't thought of that. Through terror that clogged up his mind, he had not once thought about how Stan planned on eating him. Perhaps, it was too gruesome, to terrifying of a thought to ever think about, or muse over. Alive… being eaten alive… Kyle curled up, his legs and arms underneath him as he sobbed into his fists. He was tired of crying. He was tired of this horror. And, he was tired of Stan's hand petting his back.

"Shh human, I say not now. Too pretty, not fat enough."

Kyle wanted to throw up, remembering that he had eaten that day. When he ate, he ate himself to death. There wasn't a single calorie of comfort in the food he was given. No, it was a death sentence, and Stan brought it to him on a platter.

"…Maybe I tell you what happen." Stan reached out for him, and Kyle recoiled, but his grip on his shoulder was too great. He dragged him to his lap, and sucked at some of the goo and blood that was trickling from his neck from the tentacle's attack. Kyle shuddered. He felt some of the liquid leave his blood stream and enter Stan's mouth. The mental image was repulsive.

Breaking away, Stan's lips made a sucking noise before he wiped his mouth off. He looked content. Kyle quickly scrambled away to sit back in the corner, shuddering as the fluffy material formed around his body. His heart sunk as Stan crawled towards him, although he stayed a distance away.

"I hungry lot." Stan explained, gesturing out with an arm (or was it a tentacle? Kyle didn't feel conscious enough at this point to know.) "Many many Another I eat. Make fat, good eat. Lots food for me, I eat all, yummy." Stan licked his lips, thinking about this. "But I no eat human, I no know about human. So I pick you."

He inched closer to him, and Kyle was wary, noticing the look in his vibrant blue eyes that glowed unnaturally.

"I not eat human," he said huskily, sliding up next to Kyle. His right arm morphed into a tentacle as it wrapped around his waist. "You my first, I wonder what taste human is." Kyle shuddered and his breath increased as Stan licked the side of his face. "But you not understand; you not die when I eat. You regrow. Laowynh make it so body part regrow. Watch."

Many tentacles held him down, suddenly, and Stan towered over him, licking his lips. He looked down lustfully, as if he was craving something, before suddenly lodging himself onto him, his mouth attacking his bare skin. Kyle screamed as Stan's teeth dug into his skin, biting down far past his dermis and epidermis, shaking his head so that flesh ripped off of his arm. He howled as Stan ate him, the pain so incredibly immense that he could barely see straight, tears pouring down his face. And yet, he could do nothing as Stan ripped off bits of his muscle and tissue, eating and licking him like a five course meal.

But just as the pain started, it ended, even though Stan continued to feast on him. Blood was smeared all over his face, and Kyle felt bile rise in his throat when he looked down at his arm, seeing that Stan had eaten in to the bone. Stan still gnawed on him, biting off a bit of ligament. After a while, Stan slowed, his breath heavy with continuing lust. However, as he licked over parts of his skin that he had eaten, Kyle watched as blue liquid filled up the hollow of eaten flesh. It must have been the Laowynh. He watched as it bubbled up, almost fascinated as it slowly began to form layers of flesh.

"See," Stan said, "It go back. You no die." A smile. "Unless a feast, unless I get too hungry. But, I no eat now. Not fat enough. I eat just blood and semen."

Kyle literally sputtered

"W-WHAT?" He shrieked, again struggling viciously.

Stan laughed. "Calm, calm!" And indeed his tentacles forcibly calmed him, holding all of his limbs down. "Why, it bad? I thought human like this." Stan grinned at him as he took his dick into his hand. Kyle's eyes widened, and he struggled half heartedly as Stan began to stroke him.

"S-Stop!" Kyle cried out, trying to jerk himself out of Stan's grip. "Please, don't!" Stan looked at him as if he was insane.

"I thought humans like?"

"I don't-" He didn't want it. He didn't want the alien's hands on him, just after _eating him_. Kyle was petrified of him. He was scared of everything. So scared that all he did when Stan left was curl up and cry. He wanted to go home. Just go home and have his mom and dad and brother be there to calm him, not- Stan. Definitely not Stan. He didn't want Stan's hands on him, he wanted _Kenny's._

"But I'm hungry." Stan whined, and Kyle's eyes shot open as he lowered his head to suck on his erection. The alien boy bobbed up and down, and sucked so hard that it was almost painful. Kyle sobbed, and thrashed, grateful that the tentacles loosened up a bit so that he could grab Stan by the hair and pull his head away.

"N-No- Please- Please Stan no, you just- j-just ate." The word sounded foul coming from his mouth.

He whined again, and the tentacles tightened around him. Kyle screamed, fear bubbling up into his voice and spilling over in terrified wails. Humiliation burned on his face as Stan sucked him off. Anywhere but here, anywhere but here. Kyle wanted to go home. So badly, that his body felt numb. It couldn't handle any more stress. His body began to shut down. Or at least, mentally, he did.

Kyle didn't comprehend Stan's abnormally long, tentacle tongue as it swirled all the way around his erection twice, sliding it up and down and getting all of the precum out of him that he could. Unwillingly, Kyle bucked his hips up, crying harder as he realized what he had done. But it felt good. God damn him, it felt amazing, even when Stan's jagged teeth brushed over the tip of his dick. He didn't want this he didn't want this, _he didn't want this._

"Stop." Kyle was desperate as he began to reach his end, rocking back and forth, the tentacles letting him twist his hands in the alien's hair. He couldn't pull him away, though, he was too strong.

Pressure began to build up in his lower stomach, feeling hot as he trembled, toes curling. "S-Stan, stop, ple- please stop, Stan stop, stop it stop it leave me a-alone please Stan stop oh god oh god oh god stop stop PLEASE STOP STAN NO PLEASE STO-OP."

He felt it, and Kyle sobbed as he reached orgasm, throwing his head back and bucking up into Stan's mouth. It didn't feel good. It didn't feel like it had when he had jerked off himself, thinking about- thinking about Kenny or Bebe. It felt like repressed fear spilled out of his lower regions, in a way that screaming or crying could not. The feeling didn't make his eyes roll back, or his face blush. Instead, it made his tears come quicker, faster, harder, and his breathing increase with little hiccups from his hyperventilation.

Stan sucked harder, milking him for everything he had. He licked his lips when he let go with a 'pop'. Kyle instantly fell backwards when the tentacles let go of his remaining limbs. He panted, crying softly, again very aware of how naked he was.

"Tomorrow," Stan said, with a smile, continuing to lick his softened dick, "I let you out of your nest. You see my ship. Much fun for Kyle." Nipping the puncture wound on his neck, Stan retreated. "Taste good, Kyle. Cute." Stan used him. Always, he used him just for food.

He left him alone to cry. And like always, that's what Kyle did when Stan was gone. Cry, alone, in the dark.

Alone.

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**Review if you want Stan to go down on you, too.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is a smidge shorter then the others, but it really just needed to serve as a transition between 3 and 5. I wonder how long I'll make this fic...**

Kyle felt like he was going to puke. The gastric juice inside his stomach twisted and churned uncontrollably. He placed a hand to his mouth to quiet his breathing and to calm himself. What he was about to do could get him killed. Or, worse, be forced to _live_.

Waiting. Kyle waited, sick to his stomach for Stan to feed him. And when he did- he would run. Run as fast as he can, find the airlock, and throw himself into space. Because he couldn't live here, as an entre for an alien. Because he finally understood; he wouldn't be going back home. He could beg and beg and beg, cry at Stan's feet and hold onto him as he tried to kick him away, but he would never go home, because Stan was hungry and Kyle was food.

His stomach rumbled. Kyle looked down, his hand shakily holding his midsection. Was he ready for this? Ready to die? …Of course he wasn't, but there was no option. What sort of life did he have now, anyway? Each day that passed, all Kyle did was eat and sleep. Stan gave him nothing to stimulate his mind, for that burned calories and Stan wanted him fat. Kyle pinched his waist, his stomach plummeting farther when he felt a bit of fat there that he hadn't had before.

He breathed in and out, breathe feeling heavy as his heart pounded uncontrollably fast. He could hear Stan coming. Kyle felt like throwing up, but kept it down long enough for the steel door to hiss open.

"Ah-" Stan looked at him from his crouching position on the ground, "You eat no-!" His eyes widened when Kyle lunged at him. With good aim, Kyle socked him in the face, making the alien stumble backwards. Stan lifted a hand to his nose, and Kyle bolted. He heard the door hiss shut behind him.

The floors were metal and cold against his bare feet as he ran. He felt cold all over, naked. Everything was white. White white white, just like in the movies. Kyle shivered as he ran, dread mixing in with his fear. He wanted to cry, he was so scared. Because this was it, wasn't it? He was going to fling himself into space, and suffocate.

There were many doors, all similar to the one he had seen in Star Wars in the Death Star. The idea made him want to laugh, but instead, it made him feel sick. Stan was his Sith Lord, and he was out to kill him; worse yet, eat him. Alive. Just as he had done before. Kyle would rather die then go through that again.

His breath was coming in short when he reached a dead end. Kyle skidded to a halt, panicking. Where would he turn, from here? He began to cry when he heard footsteps, no doubtably Stan. He spun around, looking for any possible way out. There were two doors, and he had no other choice. Kyle banged on it, sobbing when it wouldn't open. There was no handle. It wasn't a door like on Earth, and he didn't know how to open it.

Grabbing the edge and pulling didn't work. Neither did pushing on it. He didn't know what else to do. Defeated, Kyle slid down, running his hands along the red panel. And of course, it was that that opened it. His eyes widened, and he darted inside as fast as he could. The door shut silently behind him.

Inside, everything was quiet and dark. He couldn't see anything apart for a few blinking lights along the wall, and a window that showed the cosmos. He felt alone. Kyle licked his dried lips and crawled along the edge of the wall, feeling every bit for some sort of latch that he could open. It was freezing inside that room.

Kyle bumped into something hard, and rubbed his head, cursing. Further investigation showed that it was a sort of chair, connected to a metal board that stretched all the way up to the ceiling, or so he could tell. His eyes had slowly begun to adjust to the dark, although it was still pitifully bad. Oh what he would give to just be at home, or even school…

Thirty paces. That's how far he had moved from the door into this strange room. The uncertainty of where he was and how long he had to run was eating away at his already churning insides. This could be his only chance to escape, to kill himself. He had to get away. Had to get away. Run. Die. Get away. Anything. Anything to escape-

What was that against his ankle? Kyle shuddered and his face paled as he looked behind him. Nothing. It must have just been his imagination. He couldn't take this. The stress was killing him, his nerves slowly sending him into a spiral of paranoia and fear. Oh if only he could die, though.

But there it was again! Kyles eyes widened and he rolled onto his side, kicking out. He scrambled underneath the metal board and sat there with his hands over his mouth. Petrified. Kyle was petrified.

"Bad. Very very bad Kyle." The words were around him, everywhere at once. He shuddered. He hadn't heard Stan come in…

"You not run," his voice said, as he felt a tentacle creep up his back. Kyle screeched and squirmed away, but it grabbed him around the neck. Choking him. "Make me mad. You not get away."

Kyle's hands clawed at the tentacle around his neck. "S- Stop it. I can't- breathe- I can't-" He gasped for air, feeling so empty yet as though he was about to explode from lack of oxygen.

"_BAD."_ The tentacle tightened around him as more joined it.

Kyle felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. He couldn't breathe. The life was being sucked out of him. But this is what he had wanted, right? To suffocate in space? He hadn't wanted to die at the hands of his enemy, but now, he would take anything to just be home. Away.

He slumped over when the tentacle suddenly let go of him. Kyle gasped for breath out of reflex. The life poured back into him with every molecule of oxygen that passed through his lungs and through his atriaventricular valve. Kyle lay panting on the floor as he coughed, sputtering uncontrollably. His body shook. The stress had been too much for him, he wasn't strong.

"You don't run," Stan scolded, and Kyle sobbed. His touch was disgusting as he slid up next to him. "Very bad, make me angry." A thin tentacle travelled over his trachea, squeezing it lightly.

"I want to die," Kyle moaned. He couldn't take much more of this.

Stan hummed a reply. It was eerie how quickly he could change moods, strangling him at once second and then humming at the next. It was a childlike cruelty, that changed on whim. Bipolar. Stan could no be trusted, nor could he be satiated. But then again, Kyle already knew this.

After a while of Kyle's erratic breathing and Stan's persistent licking, Kyle's blood ran cold with the words that he did not want to hear. "I'm hungry."

Stan laughed as he jerked suddenly away from him, catching him quickly around the waist. The alien boy continued laughing as he fought for him, scrabbling over his thrashing body so that he had him pinned. "Fun."

Kyle kicked out, but it was useless. Stan had him pinned sufficiently underneath him. He felt him bite him on the shoulder and shake his head from side to side, trying to bite off a bit of flesh. Howling, Kyle kicked back, and Stan tumbled off of him. Kyle scrambled for something to defend himself with. But he found nothing. Stan grabbed for him again, making Kyle screech. The alien's mouth lodged itself onto his neck, and Kyle felt his cold, slippery tongue savor his skin.

Biting continued down his neck and onto his shoulder where Stan stopped suddenly. He mumbled something before standing up. Kyle was left to lay on the ground, naked, bleeding, and dumbfounded.

"Go home planet we will soon. I eat at home. Come, back to room, you sleep, then we eat."

Kyle was pulled up buy the upper arm and forced through the door, where he stumbled to meet it in the dark. It shot open like usual, and Stan dragged him out into the hallway. The sound of Stan's shoes and his own shoe-less patter of feet against the ground reminded him so much of who was in charge, and where he was. He was a prisoner. Not just a prisoner; an ingredient to an entre that would satiate the alien for- years. The thought made his stomach remember how sick it was feeling.

Depression sunk into Kyle's body as they walked. His feet dragged and he hung his head low. He was tired. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. He didn't want to be here, he just- he wanted a normal life. He wanted his life back. And he was probably the only teenager in the world who thought that. Kyle almost laughed. Funny how it took being abducted and eaten by an alien to wish to be normal…

Without petrified running, Kyle could clearly see his surroundings. It did indeed look like the Death Star, all white hallways with steel reinforced doors. He wondered vaguely where the other aliens were, if there were any at all. Kyle didn't think he wanted to see them, though, so he didn't think about it much.

Stan kept his head straight forward, never looking back or noticing how Kyle dragged his feet as he walked. He seemed anxious, somehow. Perhaps he hadn't been to his home planet in a long time? Kyle didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. The hand around his arm that had morphed into a tentacle during their walk tightened around him when they stopped in front of another door. It looked just like the others, yet Stan was able to identify it as Kyle's room.

"In." Stan placed his hand upon the door and it opened. He flung Kyle into the room. Kyle stumbled, and tripped, falling with an 'oomph' onto the fluffy material which automatically caught him, forming to the curves of his body. He wiped away a strand of curly red hair before glaring up at Stan, who simply looked down at him.

"You sleep, much rest. We home soon." It was all he said before the door hissed closed in front of him. Kyle stared at it for a while, imagining Stan to still be there, looking down at him. After a while, Kyle growled and punched the ground.

Goddamnit! He had been close. He had escaped. Who knew what he could have found if he hadn't ran into a dead end. He was so stupid. He hadn't honestly thought that he could have escaped… There was almost no chance. No chance to escape. He didn't know where he was, or where he was going. The spaceship was beyond his comprehension.

Suddenly, Kyle was petrified again. An alien, Stan was an alien, and they were going to his home planet. Shivers ran up Kyle's spine. His image of aliens had been admittedly warped now that he had met Stan. He had imagined them to look not humanoid at all, but yet, Stan looked perfectly- human, apart from, well, the tentacles. But it was strange. Why did he look humanoid? Was his home planet similar to that of earth? Should he not have adapted to his home planet? Or maybe- he was human, only as a disguise. But for what reason? Kyle was scared enough as it was…

Kyle stood, and wandered over to the vast window where he knelt down and leaned onto the ledge. He stared out into the cosmos, watching bits of space junk pass the window, the swirling mixture of color, illuminated by distant galaxies. He wondered if aliens inhabited those worlds as well. Were they the same as Stan, as himself? Or were they monstrous, without complex thought?

A planet loomed in front of the window, blue, with lights blinking through the black void of space. Kyle stared in awe and in fear. A- planet. Another planet. It was overwhelming; the sheer idea that other planets existed with intelligent life on them… But that was right. Stan was an _alien_, he had been abducted by an _alien_. Possibilities were numerous, anything was possible. And where an alien existed, there had to be more, on its same planet. Kyle's blood ran cold.

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Stan pulled at him, but Kyle resisted, screeching. He thrashed, screaming for his life as Stan forced him out of his room. They had landed around an hour ago, and Kyle was petrified. He didn't want any more change, he wanted to stay in his room, forever, and die. Not even curiosity won him over to leave, because Kyle knew that whatever was outside the spaceship would be too horrible to imagine. He kicked his feet out, planting his heels firmly in front of him. Stan became annoyed, and yanked him hard with his inhuman strength, making Kyle fall forward suddenly.

"Stop it! Stop it! No, nononon no no nonono! Leave me alone, I don't want to leave! Let me go! Let me go home! Please, stop, stop!" Kyle yelled, twisting in Stan's grip as he pulled him along the floor. "I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE! I DON'T WANT TO _LEAVE_!" He continued to howl, fear gripping at his chest and plunging him under a wave of terror as Stan pulled him to a flight of stairs.

Kyle was dragged down them unmercifully and unceremoniously. His body throbbed as it hit the edges of the stairs. He twisted in Stan's grasp. Stan was unrelenting. And before Kyle knew it, he was thrown into a world of darkness.

The world was dark. Horribly, horribly dark, and Kyle could not see. Everything was pitch black like Stan's hair. Above him, Stan sighed, drinking in the putrid smell of his home planet. Lucky for Stan, he was home. Kyle, however, was not so lucky.

They were home.

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**Give me delicious reviews and next chapter, you'll get to meet Craig.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'M ON A ROLL, QUICK UPDATE! Your reviews inspired me to update very fast! Thank you very, very much! Enjoy your Craig and vore~

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There was no way to describe these new colors, and Kyle was surrounded by them. They were everywhere, reflecting off the walls and ceiling, sifting through the air as they wrapped around him. Stifling. The colors were light, but he had never seen them before, had never known that they could exist. Everything was new, and strange, and he was kept locked up in another foreign room.

He didn't remember much from when they had departed from the ship. All he remembered was struggling harder, becoming more panicked, and then Stan injecting him with some sort of syrum from a tentacle, and falling asleep. He awoke what he guessed to be about a couple of hours later with no recollection of where he was, and that's where he was, currently. Scared. Alone. Not on Earth.

Because this definitely wasn't Earth, nothing about it was Earth. Kyle curled up in a corner of the room, hyperventilating, eyes wide. There wasn't a large window like the last time, instead, only a couple of small circular ones without any sort of glass. But they didn't need glass. The first time he had tried to escape from them, they shocked him instantaneously with a volt of harsh electricity that jolted throughout his entire body. He had fallen back, gasping.

No escape.

Everything was hot, all around him, hot. The air was suffocating and heavy, like a tropical oasis multiplied by fifty to the nth exponent. He sweated profusely, panting like a dog. The room was large, littered with soft pillows and objects that he did not recognize, or wish to recognize. Alien furnishings. Things that he did not know, did not understand, and was scared of. Some of the alien furnishings seemed to move as he watched them, although he was not sure of their use. They were made out of a strange substance, almost like jello, but able to form at whim and will of their own. When it got too hot, they would melt, and stay in a puddle on the floor, making little beeping noises. Their use was a mystery that he did not wish to solve.

The corner that he sat against was rough, the walls made out of a sort of stone, trapping in the heat. Through the window, he saw foliage, comforting, as it was green, just like that of Earth. There was a humming noise deep inside the (house?) building, and the leaves would rustle just outside the windows when the humming increased. It sounded like an air conditioner, as if the whole planet was underneath its conduct. Then again, he didn't know what was outside that single room. It could be anything, the possibilities were seemingly endless. The thought was terrifying.

Kyle looked around the room, fearful of any changing furniture. He had been sitting there with his arms wrapped around his knees for the past couple of hours, sweating, his teeth chattering from fear. Cautiously, he reached his hand out, and dipped it into a pool of water that was to his left. It reminded him of a swimming pool, and he was relieved to find that, it was, in fact, water, and not some sort of other strange liquid. It must have been designed as a bath of sorts, and the water felt refreshing on his hot skin. He relaxed a bit, and had the urge and motivation to dip his foot in as well when he pulled his arm back.

The water was cool against him, a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of the alien room with its strange colors. Something familiar, something he could place; water, the foundation and building block of life. And if this planet had water, then it must have had to evolved to that similar of Earth. Kyle felt a bit relieved, although it was just a tiny iota. He felt suddenly homesick.

"Kyle." His name sounded through the dense air, pulling at him like the heat did. Stan's voice. Kyle quickly pulled his foot out of the water, recoiling instantaneously back into his defensive position. "You will come?"

There was a whoosh sound, and a part of the wall opened up to reveal Stan, who stood there in front of him. His clothes had changed, no longer wearing his brown jacket and jeans, but that of what Kyle guessed was fashionable on his planet. It looked like a tunic, but with shimmering parts that wrapped all the way down his legs, his arms bare apart from bands that were decorated with stones that Kyle did not recognize. Kyle whimpered. He did not want to be with Stan, he couldn't take any more stress.

"We home now, you come with me I take you lots of fun, you eat. Hungry?" Stan leaned down, crouching and held a hand out for him, noticing his fear, and acting delicate because of it. "Scared I know. You eat you feel better." His broken English was somewhat reassuring.

"Stay away from me," Kyle spat, and drew his legs up closer to his chest, "just let me stay here, you've done enough."

Stan frowned and stood. He walked quickly over to him and knelt before him, reaching out a hand to touch his face. Kyle recoiled, but Stan grabbed his hair, making him wince in pain. Instantly Kyle obeyed, and stood as Stan did.

"Very good. It nice you see."

The grip in his hair made Kyle's eyes water, and he dry sobbed, grabbing onto Stan's arm as he dragged him out the door, Kyle still as naked as ever, feeling very exposed. Stan liked to touch him, he had come to learn. Perhaps his skin had taste receptors on them. It would explain why he constantly ran his hands over his body. Kyle shuddered. Just like a fly, landing on him, tasting him. Disgusting. Terrifying.

Wandering through the hallways hurt his feet which remained bare. They were gold-like colors, but the unfamiliar colors hurt his eyes. Arches and oval-like windows covered the halls, a pleasant and relieving breeze coming in from them. The heat didn't seem to bother Stan, and his grip let up in ease. Instead he opted to run his hand down his back, forcing him with his strength to keep him walking. His hand felt sticky on his lower back, and Kyle wondered whether or not it was just from the heat.

His body felt heavy, unnaturally heavy, the gravity here being greater then that of Earth. He squinted and looked towards the sky. The sky was a brownish color, and he could clearly see more then one sun, three, total. A few other planets circled Stan's own, and Kyle didn't know why the gravity didn't immediately crush him. Then again, this was not Earth; he knew nothing. He thought for a while about asking Stan, but decided against it. His answer would be choppy, anyway. He probably wouldn't even understand it.

"Come, come." Stan was excited, and leaned over him, rubbing the side of his face against his own. Kyle jerked away, heart beating fast.

Watching him carefully, Stan opened the golden door at the end of the hallway slowly, in case he made any move to run. But Kyle had learned what happened when he ran. Besides, he was too awestruck and terrified to run when the door was open. Kyle was a deer in headlights. Frozen.

The room was huge, fifty times bigger then his own, enourmous glass walls framing the topaz colored curtains that hung in front of them. It was dark, illuminated by a flourescent floor that lit up when touched. A large table was placed in the center of the room, littered with plates of alien food which toppled over the rims and onto the floor. Fountains of dark colored liquid poured from the walls into numerous ammounts of collecting ducts which poured into little pools. Above, the ceiling morphed into different immages of strange creatures that Kyle didn't recognize. But he did recognize one thing. Blood. The massive, massive ammounts of blood.

It was everywhere, the room's finest and most ample decoration. It pooled on the ground, trickled down the walls, and dripped onto his nose when he had looked up. The blood was everywhere, and when it began to seep against his feet, Kyle screeched. He jumped back, eyes wide, and kicked his foot out, trying desperately to clean himself of the horrible red color. The blood was chunky, with bits of things that looked almost like- flesh. Before him, Kyle heard laughing. Behind him, Kyle felt Stan's hand. Pushing him into the room. Trapping him. Locking the door with a resounding thud. Trapped within a blood bath.

Kyle had the nerve to look up, bile rising in his throat as Stan's arms circled around him and held him captive. There was another boy, another alien, who looked similar to Stan. He sat in front of them, past the fountains and the large table, in what looked like an alien sort of throne. It was decorated in the bones of creatures that Kyle did not recognize, like war trophies that held glittering stones. The alien reclined in a comfortable yet daunting position, his legs curved over the armchairs. Immediately Kyle noted that it had four arms, all of which held a different plate of food or eating utensil. The alien stared him down, smiling, eyes narrowed. Their dark hair fluttered when a gush of wind whooshed in from one of the windows. It laughed at his wide eyes, and then, opened its mouth to speak.

The sound was that akin to what Stan had 'spoken' the first time he had met him, like a combination of a groan and clicking noises. It sent shudders down his spine, and Kyle shifted within Stan's arms. He just- he just wanted to be away from this horrible place. Kyle paled when he felt the blood between his toes. Stan let go of him suddenly to reply, and Kyle stumbled forward, immediately rushing to the closest corner to hide in. The aliens spoke to each other for a while, exchanging greetings as if they had not seen eachother for very long.

"Kyle," Stan said, finally, and Kyle watched as the other alien turned his eyes upon him, staring deep into his body, "you come, we eat."

His eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically.

"Kyle," Stan cooed, patting his leg, "you no hurt, we just eat. Much good, you hungry?"

It was spoken more as a statement then a question, but Kyle's stomach rumbled its reply. Stan looked happy, and walked quickly over to him, his hand outstretched the entire time. The awkward gesture worried him, and Kyle resisted when Stan grabbed his upper arm, pulling him towards the center of the room. He didn't want to leave his corner. He felt like an animal, caged and trapped. If he were a coyote, he would have chewed off his arm to escape. But the thought of anyone eating him, let alone himself, repulsed him.

Kyle struggled, kicking at Stan as he dragged him through the puddles of blood and gore. His voice hurt from screaming so much in a short ammount of time. This didn't seem to deter Stan in the least, and despite his struggling, Kyle was, in no time, thrown at the feet of the other alien boy. He began to hyperventilate, and looked up quickly at the alien that glared down at him. Scrambling to his feet, he made a move to run, but Stan caught him and forced him down onto the ground.

"Kyle, you no fight. You eat, much food, much good." His voice was choppy as he restrained him, forcibly calming him and setting him down on a chair. The chair, just as the fluffy material in his old room had done, formed around his body, holding him still, as if it understood Stan's wishes. Stan seemed happy with his handiwork, and smiled down at him.

He was taken aback when the other alien spoke.

"Stan." His voice was cold, harsh, and somewhat nasally. "Control your human, he is a prize not to be taken for granted; make sure no harm comes to him."

"You-" Kyle leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowed, "can speak English"

The alien looked down at him with dissinterest, taking a bite from a plate of food that he held with an arm. "Anybody can speak English compared to Stan."

Beside him, Stan shifted. Kyle was surprised. He had- emotions, he was embarrassed. But emotions were such a- _human_ thing.

"But," fear was replaced with curiosity as he leaned forward, farther, "_HOW_?"

"How?" The alien lifted an eyebrow, and lifted a fork-like object to his lips, sucking on it, his long tongue twining through the large spears and down the staff.

Kyle gulped. He was stepping into dangerous territory. He didn't know this alien, didn't know its mood- anything. Stan was admittadly even tempered, and didn't deliberately harm him before warning him. However, he wasn't so sure about this new creature. Just because they looked similar didn't mean they acted similar. At all.

"I mean- why- how- I mean-" He stumbled over his words. He couldn't express himself. How could he? "How do you know English, only people of Earth speak Englis-"

"Don't be so ignorant," The alien spat, "we are not speaking English, you only recognize it as English. Stupid human, this planet is much different then your primitive own. The very Fenla- air - around you has been modified for many uses. As you sit right now, it's tampering with your temporal lobe to make you recognize _our_ language."

"Then- why did I hear you speak in a different language earlier...-?" Kyle was lost, and sputtered. He didn't know what was happening, and the idea of anything entering his brain and tampering with it made him uneasy, ignoring the fact that it was an alien molecule. Fenla. The air, the gravity.

The black haired alien groaned and rolled its eyes, setting down all three of the plates it had been holding along with the fork-like object. Its arms were free, and it swung its legs over the side of the chair to sit normally. Beside him, Stan perked up. "It had not yet taken effect. Enough questions."

"Kyle~" Stan moved over to scoot farther next to him. "Let us eat. Craig he is hungry want now for the food."

Ah, Craig. Kyle looked up at the boy. But he was not a boy, he was dangerous, something beyond a boy, yet not a man. Not a man, because he was not human. But his age was a mystery, as was Stan's, it was just- how they appeared to be. Again Kyle questioned why they looked so humanoid.

Craig stood, and clapped his hands. Suddenly, there was a bustling noise as many, many strange creatures emerged from behind the curtains. Kyle's eyes widened in fear, terror gripping at his stomach. He immediately clung to Stan, who wrapped a tentacle around his shoulders. The creatures were horrible, terrifying, and there were so many of them, all different. Some were large, others small, some hairy and others adorned with scales. A select few dripped goo that slopped against the blood on the floor while smaller ones with vaccuum-like appendages sucked it up after them. They all carried plates too and from the table, replacing the old ones with new. Kyle shrieked when a large hamster-like creature slid up next to him, sniffing his leg. Stan hissed at it, and it retreated quickly, scurrying away with a couple of dishes.

The smell of rotting food filled the air, and as it took all Kyle had not to regurgitate, Stan's stomach rumbled next to him. "Not now," Craig said, patting Stan on the shoulder, "I have a special treat for us, from the planet Hrrygh."

The servant animals continued to scurry and scutter around them, and Kyle wiggled out of Stan's grasp when he realized that they would not dare touch them. Whoever Stan and Craig were, they were of higher rank then these servants. Even the ones with fangs generally tended to stay away from him, whether or not from fear, Kyle did not know.

A commotion came from his left, and all three of them turned. Four large, slimy creatures carried something that struggled in their grasp. Kyle recognized a humanoid shape, although it was marred by a tail and too many limbs. It screeched just like Kyle had, and his heart clenched, feeling automatic pity for the creature. It was crying, using its claws to try and escape, but every time it latched onto one of the other creatures, their slime stuck to its hands, holding him down.

It was carried to the middle of the room, and then deposited there. Kyle felt sick as he watched the servants tie it down to the floor where rings had been specially placed to hold it. The animal-human tried desperately to escape, and collapsed when it was injected in the neck with a fang from one of the more dangerous looking servants. It breathed heavily, chest rising and falling slowly. But still, it struggled, although weakened.

"Ah," Craig's hand left Stan's shoulder, and he sat back down on his throne, crossing his legs and folding all four of his arms on top of one another. "What is your name, Hrryghian?"

"My name is Clyde," it stated proudly, growling, "and you never will-a am-break me. I-a will never bow be-a-fore you."

"So we shall see," Craig said, licking his lips. Clyde crouched against the floor, fear pooling in his eyes in the form of tears. Kyle stood petrified, watching the scene as Craig and Stan loomed over it. Stan came up behind it, both of his hands raking over its somewhat chubby body, pinching at its flesh. The creature screached when Stan ripped a bit of flesh off of it, with that inhuman strength.

Craig inhaled the scent of its blood, and his mouth waterd, all four arms twitching.

"We eat?" Stan questioned, and Craig nodded. The Clyde-alien's eyes widened, and it screamed, pleading as Craig and Stan suddenly lunged on it.

Kyle felt sick as he watched them feast on the live creature. Their mouths stretched unnaturally wide as they ripped off whole limbs, gulping them down quickly like a snake, not bothering to chew the appendages. Blood seeped from the being as it screamed bloody murder, eyes rolling up into the back of its head as it spasmed underneath their sharpened teeth while they ripped into its body. Apparently, it was not given the gift of life that Stan had given him, and they ate its many hearts, devouring its trunk and torso last as it lay gasping and dying upon the floor.

Blood covered Stan's face, bits of organ next to his mouth as he looked up at Kyle, their eyes meeting. He continued to feast, a lustful look in his eyes as he stared into Kyle's own. Beside him, Craig ripped into the Clyde-alien's throat and it gurgled one last time before slumping back against the floor for good. The crunch of bone resonated through the hall, a continuous cracking as Craig dined upon the bones of its skull.

"Come," he heard Stan say, through large bites of fresh meat, "join, you get most fat by meat."

Kyle shook and stepped slowly back, his heart almost stopping as he watched them devour the alien upon the floor. Shakily, he turned and ran. He knew where the blood came from, then. And with all the fear he had ever experienced boiling down into one thought, Kyle realized that one day, that would be him.

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**Your reviews are like Clyde- the more I get, the hungrier I am, and the faster I update.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AW YEAH sorry for the break, I was on vacation. Also I just graduated High School a year early, so I'm feeling pretty smug. Pat me on the back. My smug levels are high.**

I run, terrified. There's something behind me. Hyperventilating, I breathe. In out. In out. Oh god, IN OUT, IN OUT IN OUT INOUTINOUTINOUT! My heart beats fast, pounding in my ears. I'm scared. Petrified. Terrified. Fear bubbles up inside of me. I hear it coming. Loud footfalls on the ground. Left, right, right left. Four legs. The creature has four legs.

I stumble a bit, and the fear increases. Oh god, no. This isn't what I wanted. To be chased. Prey. I slow, gasping for breath. It comes in short sort of pants, my adrenaline blocking my windpipe. Breathe, breathe. One breath, two breaths, and I'm off again, feet pounding against the hard, solid ground.

Everything is white. White walls. White corridors. White mindset. My mind is white. I don't comprehend what is happening. All I see is white. White fear. White breath. White chasing me as I run from myself. I'm insane, and I know it.

The creature is in my mind. A figment of my imagination. But more and more it becomes real. Morphing. Twisting. Evolving. Adapting, adjusting, altering, ,- Warping.

Insane. I was insane.

Or was I?

Time made fear become tangible. I was a portal of sorts. I knew it was real, it was not my imagination. Time. Time was what it took for it to finally evolve into what I knew it was; Fear. It was fear. My fear. And it was _real_.

My legs hurt as I run. Pumping back and forth, feet hitting the ground. My heart beats in my chest. I don't know what to do. Where can I run?

This is the end. I know it. This is where I have to conquer my fear. But how can I? I can't. I can't conquer it. I can't run from it. It is me. It's a part of me. It's a part of me, and who I am. I can hear it behind me. Breathing. In and out. In out. In and out.

"_Kyle,_" it says, "_Kyle, why are you running?_"

I scream. I deny what is happening. It sounds like Craig. Denial; the first step towards acceptance.

"Because," I say back as my body gives out on me, and I collapse on the ground. It's on me in a second, devouring my mind. My mind. Hypothalamus. Fear. I am eaten alive by fear. "You control me."

"_Control you? Kyle, I don't control you, I _AM _you._"

But this I already know, and, I suppose, this is what made me insane. Insane. My mind, gone. There's no hope for me. No hope. No hope.

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"Get _away_ from me!" Kyle glowered and scooted farther into his corner, a pathetic way to try and fend off Stan.

"Kyle," Stan said, his oddly accented voice softening as if it were trying to soothe him, "I not eat, not hungry, I eat before with Craig, I not hungry." And, as an after thought; "Come."

The alien was insane. Always, always insane. Why did he always believe that Kyle would follow his instructions? Kyle hated him, hated everything about Stan. Loathed him. …Feared him. Desperately, desperately feared him.

"No." A hiss.

Stan's face fell, and his eyebrows furrowed. He looked hurt. Funny, that thought. A monster, hurt. Kneeling like Kyle had first seen him in his bedroom, Stan crouched and looked at him. "I come to you, then."

His eyes widened, and he desperately looked for a way out of his predicament. He didn't want to be anywhere near him, not after- after what he _saw_. The image of Stan's jaw unhinging and ripping into the carcass of the Clyde-creature along with Craig made him feel sick to his stomach, both with horror and disgust. Eyes darting around the room, he looked for an escape, but found none.

Easing up to him, Stan reached out his hand gently, as not to scare him. Stan's skin held a slight blue tinge to it. Kyle swatted it away, baring his teeth like an animal. Fearful, like an animal. Instinct.

"Make me sad, Kyle," Stan said, and honestly, he looked it. Kyle didn't know what was wrong with Stan. He had seemed so happy to arrive back on his home planet. What was wrong with him now? Craig seemed to have an affect on him. "Just come, I no hurt."

He reached out his hand again, and Kyle looked down at it. Would it hurt? Was it a trick? But Stan had not hurt him upon their arrival (yet), and Kyle had nobody. He was alone, so very, very alone. He didn't know what his relationship with Stan was. Did they even have one? If they did, it was one sided. Kyle was terrified of him. He wanted to be anywhere but in the same room with him. Yet- perhaps- he could persuade Stan to let him go, to take him back home.

Kyle took Stan's hand. Stan, who immediately lit up. And the last thing that Kyle expected was for Stan to draw him up into his arms in a tight hug. Kyle blinked, confused and shocked as Stan hugged him harder.

"I no eat," Stan said, "not hurt, I not eat you. Not now. Don't feel good. Happy, Kyle?"

"…No," Kyle whispered into his shoulder, arms slack, confused what to do with them as he was held and squeezed.

The grip on him loosened slightly in disappointment.

"…What do you expect, Stan?" Guilt wasn't something that Kyle expected. But nothing here had been what he expected. Especially not after Stan had eaten part of his arm, and another living creature in front of him. "I'm- I'm scared of you. I want to go home. I don't know where I am, I don't know where I'm going, and I-I'm scared."

He couldn't believe he was admitting this. He was letting his defenses down, admitting his _feelings_, above all else. It was true that he had told Stan how he had wanted to go home many, many times before, but not like this. Not as he started crying, and held Stan in return. Not as he hugged him hard to his chest. Comfort. Kyle needed comfort.

"I'm scared," he whispered, tears falling freely as he shook, "I don't know what you are. I don't know why I'm here. I just want to go- go h-home. I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here!"

A hand rubbed against his back, and Kyle made a slight hiccupping sound. He felt pathetic. He was a man, this was not how men acted. Men did not cry. Did not cry. Yet, he was crying, bawling his eyes out in another boy's arms. No. Not boy. No matter what, Kyle could not forget that even though they looked so similar, Stan was not human. Alien. Stan was an alien.

Stan shifted from his knees to the floor, where he leaned against the wall, pulling Kyle with him. Stan's clothes felt rough against Kyle's bare skin. Naked, he felt so vulnerable. Crying did not help.

"No, Kyle." Stan's voice was soft, and his arms moved from around his chest to around his waist, pulling him closer. "Don't leave me, I won't let. I-" Stan paused, and the sound of his voice was softer then a whisper, "I'm lonely."

…Oh. Oh. This- Kyle wasn't expecting that. Emotions, too many emotions for him to handle. Stan wasn't allowed emotions. No, not ever. Stan was a monster, an _alien_! He wasn't _human!_ How could he have emotions? The thought both scared and sickened him. It hit too close to home. Home. He missed home. This was not home. It was Stan's fault, Stan's fault!

Kyle jerked suddenly back, breaking out of the alien boy's hold. His eyes were wide and he breathed heavily, jumping to his feet and taking slow steps forward. He held out his hands in front of him. Anything to keep Stan away. On the floor, Stan's head was bowed, and he looked up at him, sadly. He looked defeated.

Another step backwards, and Kyle fell, landing on his bottom. He scrambled back, against the opposite wall, pulling the fabric of the 'nest' Stan had made for him over himself.

"Kyle?" Stan asked hesitantly.

"Stay away." Kyle's voice was low, dangerous. Or at least it tried to be.

"Kyle?" Stan was hurt, and scrabbled up onto his knees and began to walk towards him. "Kyle me- I- stay with me you have to. I not like- want- you to leave. You look like me. You look like Craig and me but no four arms and no more of our world kind left. I want you be with me. I not want to be with Craig anymore. I not hurt. I- I not eat. Not now. I try not later. So hungry… But- but not with you I not do what it is. I am lonely."

Too much information at much. Too, too much information at once. Kyle didn't know what to do or think. Stan and Craig were the- only ones left on their planet? But that didn't explain Craig's hostility, or why Stan seemed to have some sort of fear for him (but who could blame him).

Lonely.

Stan couldn't possibly be lonely. To be lonely to was to be human. _Kyle _was lonely. His parents, his family, his friends, his home; gone. Kyle had ever reason to be lonely. Not _Stan_. Not Stan who was on his own home planet with Craig, leaders of their world.

"I-" Kyle stuttered, a loss for words. He didn't know what to do or say. What WAS there to do or say? He wanted to run, run far away and never return to that horrible room or to the aliens that inhabited this world. But he couldn't. He was trapped. Trapped with a brokenhearted alien who had wormed his way back up to him, and was touching him, grabbing at him, holding, hugging him.

"You no speak," Stan whispered, tentacles petting him all over. He looked as though he were about to cry. "We Na'Vani, now."

"I don't understand what you-" But Kyle was cut off roughly by a kiss. A- kiss. From Stan. Stan, who snuggled up next to him and began pulling him towards his 'nest'.

Kyle's eyes widened from shock. Stan pulled away, his eyes lidded, and smiled. "You stay."

With a sudden force, Kyle jerked away. Or tried to, at least. But Stan had him in a death grip, pulling him closer and closer to the bedding. Stan was rambling, mumbles spewing from his mouth as tentacles nuzzled him all over. His ramblings were incomprehensible, spoken in his native language, and Kyle felt suddenly- Fearful. Something didn't feel right. It wasn't the first time he had been kissed by Stan, and although Stan was largely overstepping his boundaries, he didn't mind it. Comfort. He needed comfort, and that was what Stan had given him. Although it was not without fear, because that same mouth that had kissed him softly had also ripped into his flesh.

It was only when the tentacles got lower and lower with their petting that Kyle began to struggle. He felt uncomfortable with them so close to his nether regions.

"S-Stan?" His nerves were about to reach their breaking point. What was Stan doing?

"Kyle." Was all that Stan answered in reply.

He flopped down onto the bedding, bringing Kyle with him. He made a noise of protest, not liking what was happening. It all felt a little too- intimate. A little too- not right. Stan rolled to his side, and moved over Kyle, his arms and legs on either side of him. He leaned down to kiss him again, but Kyle moved his head to the side. One kiss was enough, it scared him to think that Stan wanted another. Their close proximity was driving him mad with what he knew would soon become terror. Images of him ripping apart the body of the Clyde-creature suddenly flashed through his mind once again.

"No kiss?" Stan asked, and laid his hand on Kyle's forehead.

"I don't love you." He stated bluntly, and Stan looked suddenly hurt.

"But-" The alien struggled, trying to find the words, looking shot down. "But you with me and I alone, no kiss? We Na'Vani. I take you, now."

"W-What?" His eyes widened once again.

Stan cocked his head. "I said we Na'Vani, yes you say?"

"I don't- I don't know what that means."

"I mate with you." Stan smiled gently, and kissed him on the cheek.

…No. Nononono. No, Kyle was not going to have sex with an alien. No, Kyle was not going to have sex with another _male_. The closest he had come to thinking about it was kissing Kenny, but he had kissed _Stan_ not once but _twice._ How much farther would he sink? He wanted to be a man. Men did not have sex with other men. He was not homophobic. He was- scared. Everything had been stripped from him. He did not want his masculinity- or virginity- gone as well.

"S-Stan." Kyle said, trying to remain calm. "Stan- I can't have sex with you."

"What is a sex." The alien looked at him strangely, and wiggled next to him.

Kyle struggled for the words. What was he to say to an alien? How was he supposed to describe- "It's- it's mating. Stan, I'm not going to mate with you. I don't love you, I'm not attracted to you. I want to go home."

Stan looked as though he was about to cry, and moved his hand to latch onto Kyle's upper arm. "But you said-"

"I didn't say anything, Stan, you were the one who said you wanted to."

"…No. No! Kyle will stay with me! Kyle will mate with me! Kyle will be with me and Kyle will STAY!"

"Stan… Stan that hurts." Kyle winced as his arm turned into a tentacle and began to constrict his arm.

"No, Kyle will STAY! STAY!"

The tentacle grew longer, and twisted around now both his upper arm and middle chest, holding him down and keeping him from running. Kyle wiggled and squirmed, fear beginning to bubble up into his chest. What was Stan doing?

"Stan, Stan you said you would not hurt me!" He clenched his teeth, and tried punching Stan in the jaw with his free hand, but Stan caught it, and twisted it back towards his head. Kyle's eyebrows furrowed, and his breathing increased. Fear suddenly became terror, and it twisted at his chest, grabbing a hold of his heart and squeezing like an andaconda.

"No, you stay! Kyle will stay! We will mate and stay together and I no lonely." Stan's expression matched Kyle's own, and Kyle watched in shock as he slowly started to cry. His tears were gloopier, more condensed, and had more of a blue tint to them, but they were indeed tears. Leaning down, Stan kissed him once again. Kyle tried twisting his head to the side, but a tentacle wrapped around his neck, a silent threat, and kept him looking his way.

A snakelike tongue probed at the entrance to his lips, and Kyle opened. Only to for Kyle to bite down. Hard.

Stan jerked back, screeching, and when he did so, the part of tongue that Kyle had been biting ripped off inside his mouth. Blue blood gushed out of Stan's mouth as he shrieked and it sprayed over his face. Kyle spit the tongue away, and leapt up, the tentacles retreating to wallow in pain of their host body. Kneeling and groaning on the floor, Stan clawed at his mouth. Kyle ran, looking for an exit that he could escape from. But hours of searching had turned up nothing, and his luck followed suit.

Looking behind him, Kyle watched as Stan looked up. Blood dripped down his mouth, his eyes narrowed. Stan stood, slowly and wobbly.

"You stay," he said, his voice low, "you stay with Stan."

"No, I won't!" Kyle screamed, and backed up towards the sliding door. "You're insane! You're a fucking alien! I'm not going to have sex with you, stay _away _from me!" His voice had gained a slight desperation to it as Stan neared closer and closer to him.

"You hurt me," Stan said, the same sad tone to his voice, "you hurt me and you run. I say I not hurt _you_."

"Stan- Stan you're not thinking straight. L-look, just calm down and we-EEE'L-!"

Suddenly, Stan lunged at him, the two crashing to the floor. Stan's arms had formed to tentacles as they wrapped around both of his upper arms, holding him down as he slammed him again and again into the ground. Kyle's head swarmed, unable to tell what was happening as he was abused. Everything was a mess of colors sprayed against an artist's canvas.

The only way that he was able to tell that Stan had stopped shaking him was that, eventually, the pain drowned out to numbness and he was able to see the specs of dirt against the floor instead of the room. Kyle's breathing was ragged, and above him, Stan sweated. Sweated, and Kyle felt something hard against his leg. Stan moaned.

"Kyle," he said, "Kyle, you stay. You stay with me. You no leave." He lowered his head down, resting it against Kyle's own so that their foreheads touched.

Unable to think straight, Kyle wheezed and struggled as much as he could. This was not saying much in his semi-conscious position. Stan grinded against him, breathing heavily. But- but that couldn't be right. The first night that he had visited him, Stan hadn't had a- a- a penis. So then why-

"S- Stan…" Kyle's voice was thin, and he weakly struggled against Stan's more powerful form. "Stan, Stan, p-please…"

"I not hurt you, Kyle…" He nuzzled against him, but his grip remained tight and unremitting. He could almost feel the anger coursing through his body. "It not hurt, I promise, it not hurt."

"What- What do you mean, you're- you're hurting me now…" Kyle moaned.

Tentacles swarmed around him, prodding at his skin and stroking over his thighs. Kyle sobbed, pushing and shoving against Stan, who was wriggling out of his tunic-like outfit. Again Kyle looked at him naked. There was- nothing there. So what-

But Stan didn't need a penis. Not when he had tentacles. Tentacles that were the right size for- Kyle's eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no nonono. He wasn't- he wasn't really going to- But he did, and he felt a probing between his legs.

"Stan, Stan stop! Please, don't do this to me! I'm scared, I'm scared!"

"You tried leave me, I not let you leave me, we mate, we bond, you no _leave_."

And then Stan entered him, a small tentacle, but it was humongous to Kyle. Too large. It wouldn't fit. But it did, and it _burned_. It felt like he was splitting apart, and Kyle shrieked, wailing as the tentacle thrust into him. It felt like it lasted hours, and he panted, short little breaths between sobs. But in fact, it lasted only a short amount of time, and Stan hissed with pleasure as it withdrew.

There was no lubricant, and Kyle's fingernails scraped at the floor. His face flushed, and his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Sweat glistened over his face and he screamed loudly. Nothing about it felt good. It was not sex, sex was pleasurable. This was not sex this was-

It was rape. He was being raped by an alien. Thoughts of horror filled his mind, all of the alien movies he had ever seen. What would happen to him? Would this kill him? Would Stan inject him with some strange sort of alien semen that would rot him from the inside out? His bloody fingers clenched together into fists before flattening out against his face where he hid from Stan's view.

Stan pried Kyle's hands away, and licked his face. In the time that the events had transpired, his tongue had regrown, and it now slithered across his face, delving behind his jaw and tickling at his ear. The tentacle moved in a faster pace, now, and the rest squirmed around him, as if wanting a turn. Kyle continued to howl, and his body moved with the force of the thrusts. His skin scraped against the floor, and he could feel the slippery feeling of blood against his back and his ass. Above him Stan grunted, and his black hair moved back and forth every time his body jerked forward, the tentacle entering and then leaving him.

There was no pleasure. No pleasure at all. Even when his prostate was eventually hit, Kyle felt no pleasure. There was nothing to moan over, just cry. He was violated in the most intimate of ways by an alien not even of his planet. Vaguely he could feel himself getting hard, but none of it registered in his mind. He didn't care if he got off, he just wanted _away._ Away from the tentacle that was drilling and rocking into him, away from the tentacles that had twisted around his erection, and away from their host, Stan, who kissed and licked him all over.

Eventually Stan's rhythm became more erratic, and the tentacles around him began to stiffen. Kyle's sobs had lowered to a minimum, quiet, as he leaned his head to the side, his cheek resting against the floor, feeling as it scraped against the ground with every in out in out in out in outinoutinout. The tentacles let go of his dick, and Stan moved lower against his body, grasping his hips as his alien tongue wound around it in their place. He sucked on him, massaging his balls as he was continually fucked into the floor.

"Kyle," Stan gasped out, the two in a daze, "Kyle I no- I have- what is that y-you call-!" But he made no sense, and Kyle ignored him in favor of the pain. With pain, he had no regrets. No regrets, because he was a victim and not a martyr. When he focused on the pain, he could forget that he had become hard because of it, could forget Stan and his tongue, and the feeling of the tentacles beginning to ooze a strange liquid around him.

And then Stan screamed, spewing his native language as the tentacle suddenly spasmed inside of him. Kyle opened his eyes, and although Stan was blurry through his tears, he could see his face of pleasure, and Kyle _hated_ him. He damned him for everything he was as he himself hit orgasm inside Stan's mouth and the tentacle inside of him released a flood of liquid into his body. The tentacles around him followed suit, and it seeped all over his skin, covering him in the blue-tinted sperm. He coughed, some of it getting into his mouth, feeling disgusting.

But most of all, he was relieved. It was over. Stan slumped against him, swallowing his semen. The tentacles withdrew. Kyle panted. And sobbed. Gone. He was gone. He had nothing left. Not his family, not his friends, and not even his virginity. He had been raped of everything he had. Not just in a physical sense, but in an emotional and mental one as well. No. Stan could not have feelings. He had committed the most horrible crime that Kyle could think of, and there Kyle lay, covered in the alien's disgusting release, bleeding, with a broken heart.

Stan stirred next to him after a while, and rolled onto his side to goop up some of the semen and wipe it against his leg. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were lowered. "What- it is that you call love, Kyle. I clean you. Stay, I be back. I no hurt. I keep you. Forever."

And Kyle didn't doubt that, as he was scrubbed head to toe, rid of the horrible substance that had coated his body and hair. His face matched the color of his hair. Humiliated. He was humiliated and stripped of everything he had. He was a toy, a pet, and Stan had abused him beyond repair. His hand clenched into a fist. He couldn't be repaired, but he was far, far from broken.

"I hate you."

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**Review and you can taste Stan's goo. In fact, he'll cover it in you. Like my rhyme?**


	7. Chapter 7

**HEY BITCHES AND WHORES, IF YOU LIKE THIS SHIT YOU'LL ROVE FOCAL POINT, a joint fanfic between me and Courtanie. Go find it in the M section. You will not be disappointed. It has rots of Style rovu rovu and- and- we desperately need reviews. Lololololol. : | Also I plan on making the Style in this consensual later on. HOLY SHIT DID I JUST SAY THAT.**

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If anything, Kyle wasn't broken. After all he had gone through over the past couple of weeks, it still remained true; Kyle wasn't broken. He refused to bow down in the face of the enemy, crumble up emotionally and physically before the aliens who sat in front of him, speaking in their own language. He refused. Stan had hurt him in far too many ways, but he would not cry. He would not cry anymore. No, not after that night.

_That_ night, the night that Stan _raped_ him.

It was hard coming to terms with that word, but it was true. Kyle wasn't a virgin anymore. But- did it matter? Kyle was not gay. He didn't plan on ever having sex with a man again, especially after what had happened. So- he was still a virgin in a sense. He had yet to have sex with a woman, the only thing that had been lost was something he didn't plan on doing again.

What hurt more than the technicalities was the overall humiliation and violation of it all. Kyle didn't trust Stan one bit, but he hadn't expected him to go that far. The blow job should have tipped him off, though. Stan was attracted to him. He had no qualms about sucking him off, so why should he not want to have sex with him? He was so stupid. He should have seen it coming. …Or maybe he did, but just didn't want to.

His bottom was still sore, and he ached on the inside as well, but Kyle would not cry. He had cried that night, and he would cry no more. He would die with honor, not with his face in his hands. –That is, if Stan allowed him to die at all.

Kyle had remembered what Stan had said when he, as he put it, 'mated' with him. He was lonely, and Craig didn't cut it. Kyle was a viable option, though, and although he protested the entire time and spat at him constantly, he had become clingy. Constantly, Stan had to have an arm, or a tentacle, around him, holding him close, almost as if Kyle felt like protection to him. He didn't try to kiss him or _mate_ with him again, but he did keep him very close at all times.

Something was bothering Stan, and Kyle had been moved out of his room of strange colors to sleep with Stan at night. He had put up a fight, but gave in eventually when Stan whistled for food, various strange creatures carrying it in to them. He had stared at it, shifting from foot to foot, feeling sick because he had known what would come. Hunger. And it had, immediately, and Kyle dived into the food, gobbling up huge portions with his bare hands. Stan had smiled and left him alone while he ate. However, what kept Kyle there was the lock on the door.

"I'm scared," Stan had admitted when Kyle had finished searching for an escape route, and found none. He had reluctantly sulked back to sit next to Stan on the strange bed-like fabric, the same as he had had in his room.

"Why." Kyle didn't want to talk, and made it clear, sounding as uninterested as possible.

"Craig."

But that had left him wondering. Stan had mentioned Craig before, and even though Kyle trusted Craig even less then Stan, his opinion of him had dropped considerably. Because although Stan was a monster, there was a method to his terror. It was almost like- like he was only doing what he knew. He had eaten his arm because he was a predator. He had kidnapped him because he was a predator. And he was lonely. He had mated with him because he was- lonely. Stan did not seem to be malicious. Kyle hated him, but he couldn't deny that the way Stan acted was almost- kind.

To the creature around them that constantly bustled about, Stan would give them little treats. To Kyle, he had done horrible things, but did not hurt him unnecessarily or without reason. He never hit Kyle. He did not torture Kyle. And he did not conduct experiments on Kyle like Kyle had seen in previous alien movies. Stan was always smiling. Stan was reserved. Kyle hated him, hated him so much, planned so many different ways to kill him, but-

Stan was not like Craig.

The four-armed alien was different. While Stan was almost kind, Craig was terrifying and cruel. Although he barely cast a passing glance Kyle's way, Kyle knew he was watching him, and Kyle watched him back. His actions were subtle but spoke true his personality. Stan might have rewarded the alien slaves, but Craig abused them, kicking them, hitting them with all four fists before he devoured them whole. That was something Kyle never grew used to. And most of all, Craig was cruel to Stan. Stan, the only remainder of their race.

He spoke down upon him, pushed him, shoved him, verbally attacked him, and Kyle had seen more then once Craig trip him. But he didn't understand why, though. Why, why? And always Stan picked himself up, and smiled nervously back at Craig who would scoff and turn away.

Now, however, they were sitting together relatively close without any hostility from Craig's part. Stan seemed tense but other then that everything was calm. Together they were going over writings on a machine of some sort. Both Craig and Stan held a stylus looking object between their fingers, and they would tap at the screen periodically. It would beep, and would either light up green or red. They had been going at it for a while, and Kyle had no idea what was going on, growing bored around the first five minutes of sitting and staring outside the window.

He had yet to learn the name of the planet that they lived on, but Kyle did know some things about it. Its days were shorter, with brief periods of intense, hot sunlight, and then long low times of darkness. This made the indigenous plant life different then what Kyle was used to. At first the landscape looked barren, but the second that the three suns rose, foliage would immediately sprout from the ground and unravel itself, their stalks traveling up high. It made Kyle wonder if it was what bugs experienced on Earth, wading between huge blades of grass and looking up to see an endless sky.

The gravity was also stronger, making him feel often light headed and dizzy from the amount of effort he had to put into to do the most mundane of things, such as walking or breathing. This must have had to do with the amount of suns the planet orbited, and the vast array of comets that circled around the atmosphere of the planet. Which was strange. He was able to breathe. Oxygen. The planet had oxygen. It was strange, but there wasn't much to think about it; at least he could breathe. Or not. Kyle wasn't sure if he would rather live or die. But at least that meant he still had hope.

Kyle groaned and reclined, resting his head on the table. He had turned away from the window. It was no longer light outside, the darkness had come, and he had watched as the plants curled back up and moved back underground, leaving a bare and unwelcoming view. Stan perked up beside him at the sound of his voice, and looked over, smiling. Kyle glared. He had plenty to be angry about. Stan turned back to Craig briefly, saying something short, and they both set down their styluses.

"We go now." Stan stretched and rested his head on the table, mocking Kyle's position. Kyle growled, but was shushed by the alien. He didn't really mind, though. He had been wanting to leave for a while. It wasn't as if Stan ever let him out of his sight.

"Finally." Kyle sat up when Stan moved close to him, trying to kiss him, and stood quickly. He no longer felt very over exposed, being naked. It wasn't something that was high on his list of grievances, so Kyle no longer complained. In a sense, it was almost refreshing.

Stan followed his movement, and picked up his belongings, putting the machine back into a sort of hemp bag and swinging it over his shoulder. They were almost out the door when Craig called out to them.

"Wait," he said, standing. "I want to speak to Kyle."

Kyle watched as terror crossed Stan's face, and he immediately and subconsciously hugged Kyle tight to his body. "Why Craig."

Craig shrugged, an interesting sight to see when one had four arms. "I want him to help me with a word that I don't know how to translate into English. …And you should take my lead, Stan, your English is worse then when you left."

"No." Stan stood lock jawed, his eyebrows furrowed. Craig stiffened, as if not understanding what he had heard.

"No?" The shorter alien laughed softly. "Why, Stan, I think you remember our deal."

And as Stan's face fell, so did his grip around him. Kyle freed himself instantly, the heat of Stan's body lingering even after he was gone. Kyle shivered. Stan said nothing after that, but paused, his mouth open as if he was going to, before suddenly turning away and leaving quickly, slamming the door behind him.

The echo resounded loudly around the room. Craig's hands were on his hips, and he looked up, frowning.

"See," Craig said, sitting back down in his finely crafted chair, "this is why I feel sorry for you, having to be around him constantly. Stan loves to sulk, did you know? Of course you don't know, you're just a- oh what did he say?- oh yes, a _human_."

Something about Craig's condescending and nasally voice made Kyle shiver with anger. He glared at Craig. Something about the way he put Stan down just rubbed him the wrong way, and Kyle did not want to hear any more of it, not when Craig was just a downright jackass. Hell, and he had just met him.

"But," he continued, looking down uninterestedly as he studied his fingernails, "I didn't have you stay here so that we could discuss Stan's delightful behavior. Come here, Kyle." His eyes flicked up to him, and Craig smiled. Something was not right about his smile. It did not fit on his face, and it did not reach his eyes.

However, Kyle would not back down in the face of an opponent, and he walked to him carefully, his strides large, wanting to get it over with. He stopped next to his chair, and crossed his arms. Craig glanced up at him and smirked.

"You have such an attitude. Be grateful you are still alive, human, that Stan left on the expedition and not me. You would have been a rotting carcass long ago. You see, I don't have as much _self control_ as Stan." Craig smiled and bared his teeth, and Kyle shuddered as he saw how finely sharpened they were.

"What do you want," he said, after a while when Craig stopped smiling and resumed studying his four hands.

"You just get to it, don't you." His eyes didn't flick up to meet his own, and Kyle felt put off, even though he knew he was in dangerous company.

A pause.

Craig lifted up his top left hand and blew at it before turning to face him. His four arms lifted himself up and he maneuvered himself so that he sat sideways in his chair. "I want to know if you've mated with Stan yet." His eyes narrowed and Kyle's own widened.

"I-I-"

"I knew it!" Craig threw up his arms and growled, lifting himself up so that he came closer to Kyle's face. Kyle was jerked as Craig's right arms grabbed him by the wrist and elbow and jerked him down so that they were face to face and Craig's height was no longer an issue when intimidating him. "Let me tell you this, _human_, you stay away from Stan. You are not Stan's, you are _mine_." He jerked his arm, and Kyle stumbled. He tried jerking away but it was no use, and he looked back at him, horrified. Suddenly, he found that he missed Stan's company much more.

"I'm nobodies." He wasn't exactly sure this was the route he should go down, but it was true. Dangerous or not, Kyle was not going to give in.

"Oh?" The alien cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think you seem to understand, Kyle, we are predators. I could kill you in an instant, inject venom into your bloodstream or break your neck or slit your throat or consume you whole. You listen to _me_ if you want to live. So let me tell you again," another jerk to his arm, "no matter what Stan says, no matter what Stan does, you are _mine_. You are _my_ food, _my_ alien, not Stan's toy." Craig licked his lips and stared up at him.

"Just because Stan was the one to capture you does not make you his. Merely because I allow Stan to play with you until I am ready to eat you, does not make you his. He was sent to bring _me_ back an alien to eat."

In the time that Craig had been talking, he had stood, his hands still on Kyle's wrist. He traveled around him, pulling Kyle with him as he scrutinized his body. Kyle stood stock still like a deer in headlights, terrified. Craig was much, much more dangerous than Stan. The alien let go of his wrist suddenly, but held him in place as he circled around him and stepped behind his back, two of his hands holding onto his shoulders and the remaining two on his hips. Kyle shuddered when he felt his breath on his neck. (he must have been standing on his tip toes)

"Do not mate with Stan. Stan is mine. You are mine. The world is mine, mine, _mine_." Craig's hands were dangerously low as they moved from his hips to his pelvis. Kyle stiffened when he felt Craig lick his neck as his hands wrapped around his penis. Dread settled in his stomach. Oh god. Not again. Not this- "I am hungry. Don't move, human, or I'll finish off the rest of you as well."

Kyle was trapped as Craig's arms wrapped around him in a death grip as one of his hands jerked him off. He was horrified when he found himself becoming hard, and Craig whispered inaudible things behind his back. His footing became shaky, and he leaned back against the alien behind him, petrified, mind swimming with the want to be rubbed more, for Craig to continue because _god_ it felt good.

His hips bucked forward, and he tightened his hands around Craig's arms, fear and pleasure mixing together. Craig did not ask like Stan did, although Stan had forced him anyway. Craig demanded, and Craig took. He heard the alien laugh behind him as his thrusting became erratic.

"So close, so soon, are you? My, my, my, even _Stan_ lasts longer than this." Something within Kyle twisted, and he moaned as his hips jerked forward one last time, Craig's hand squeezing around his erection as he ejaculated onto the floor and his stomach. Craig continued pumping him, milking him for his cum as his orgasm receded, his body becoming less stiff and more like jelly. Suddenly Craig let go of him and Kyle slumped to the floor.

Craig crouched down next to him, and wiped a finger though the semen on the ground. His eyes closed as he sucked on his finger, making a happy noise at the taste. He moved over Kyle next, and Kyle shuddered as he felt his tongue swirl around his bare skin. His panting died off and his breathing became regular when Craig finally finished.

"Wipe your cum off the floor and feed it to me," the short alien demanded, and Kyle obeyed, horrified. It was as if everything he had worked up to standing up to Stan had disappeared the second Craig commanded him. Something told him to do what he was told, and he did so obediently, scooping the semen off the floor and holding it up to Craig's lips, disgusted.

Craig closed his eyes once again and opened his mouth, leaning forward and clamping down onto his fingers. His tongue moved delicately over his fingers, cleaning him of the dirty substance.

"Dewrishus," Craig said from behind his fingers, and his eyes darted up to Kyle's darkly. Kyle looked back, and screamed when he heard something go 'crunch'.

At first it did not register in his mind what had happened, but the second that he saw blood pour out of Craig's mouth and drip onto the floor, he knew what had happened. He had bitten off his pinky and ring fingers. Kyle howled and jerked back, retching on the floor from the overwhelming pain that burned like knives and stabbed through him like fire. He clutched his hand to his chest, blood pouring down his skin and onto the ground where it created a small pool.

Craig gave the smile that did not reach his eyes, and Kyle could hear the crunch of his bones inside his mouth. He smiled at him, and blood dripped down through his teeth and out the corners of his mouth. Kyle's eyes widened and he stood, almost fainting, and ran to Stan.

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**I eat your reviews up like Craig eats fingers.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hrf. Sorry for the late update, for I am a faggot. Also because school started, among other excuses. The hardest part of writing is to start writing, so since I started again, hopefully I'll update quicker like usual. I was thinking about not updating this fic since it's not in the SP universe, but if you enjoy it, I'll keep it up, and just write more canon-based things on the side. Also it looks like this fic is going to be a little bit longer then I'd thought. AND WHAT'S THIS, PLOT?**

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By the time that Kyle reached Stan's room, he had almost fainted from blood loss. It didn't seem possible since his fingers were so small and thin, but they gushed enough blood to make him dizzy. He slumped against Stan's door, clenching his hand to his chest and slamming up against the door with his body. The door opened based on singular heat recognition of the specific body it was programmed to, so the only way to open it was by getting the alien's attention the only way he knew how.

Growing tired quickly, his vision swam on the third time that he slammed his body against the cold surface. His arm ached from the force, adding a dull pain to the searing agony of his fingers. The pain ricocheted through his body from the focal point of his pinky and ring fingers like a resounding echo. Kyle fell forward onto the floor when the door finally hissed open. He landed face first with a 'crack'.

A pair of feet were the only thing he saw, too tired to look up as Stan stared down at him. Blood had soaked onto his skin, staining it an almost orange color as he held his hand against his chest. Stan blinked a couple of times before reacting quickly.

"Kyle!"

Hands were immediately all over him, touching and pulling, moving him towards the bed. Stan seemed panicked, and Kyle could hear his quickening heartbeat when he picked him up to carry him. His head lolled to the side, unable to think clearly. He was set down carefully, and Stan paced back and forth in a small diameter in front of him.

"K-Kyle don't move, I get for you hurt-better." And he darted away, the door swishing open with a gush of air.

At some point Kyle must have fainted, because the next thing he remembered was Stan pouring water over his face, wiping the blood off of his cheek and out of his hair. …How had that gotten there…

"This hurt but hurt no more after. Kyle calm, please."

His eyes remained closed, but he felt a slight pinching on the underside of his wrist where his veins showed freely like tree roots underneath his skin. It must have been the stinger inside of Stan's tentacle, he thought, vaguely, as it pumped that cold liquid into his blood stream; the same liquid that he had inserted into him before he ate him. But when the liquid filled his body and left him shivering in its wake, the dull throbbing in his fingers subsided.

He was laying flat with his back against the bed as Stan sat next to him with his legs crossed. The panic that had seized the alien had dwindled to a hysterical worry as he fretted over him. Kyle opened his eyes, vision blurry, but able to make out the tentacles as they touched his hand, probing and assessing the damage. In his lap, Stan held a bowl of unknown liquid, and is sloshed as he moved to lean over Kyle.

"Why Craig did to you? What he say?" The worry was evident in his face.

Kyle wasn't in the mood to talk, as it hurt his head just to turn to the side. Stan seemed to understand, and moved away from him, sitting back down next to him in his previous spot. He looked down at the bowl, and retracted his right tentacle back into his hand, scooping up the liquid, which stayed in a perfect dome on his hand.

"Do not trust Craig," Stan said as he wiped the odd substance over his fingers. It was blue and gooey, and dripped down onto his leg where it pooled up and then rolled off onto the bed. "He bad. Bad, bad, bad, do not trust." He was quiet after that.

Kyle laid in silence and hissed as he felt a twinge of pain in his fingers when Stan rubbed it into the exposed flesh. Strange. It wasn't supposed to hurt anymore… Stan tended to him carefully, though, and looked down apologetically afterwards. He held his maimed hand in his own and stroked his skin to calm him. His skin was very smooth, almost reptilian as it caressed his own.

They sat for a while like that, after Stan had tended to his wounds. Kyle didn't want to look down. He didn't want to see what his hand looked like, the idea was frightening. He could almost imagine the gore, the bone poking through in the middle of the circular flesh…

"Craig scare me." Stan was not looking at him, instead, he was looking towards the window. His posture was tense.

"I know."

"No!" He seemed to be offended. "Kyle don't know! You stay away from Craig, away! He hurt you, he eat you!"

It was Kyle's turn to be offended. "What the hell are you talking about," Kyle spat, "you ate me too, you sick fuc-"

"Not-!" Stan screamed, eyes wide as he cut him off. A pause, and he then continued, quieter. "…Not like Craig. Craig eat all you. Craig not heal you after eat. Craig torture. Play with prey what Craig do. You stay away Craig. …Please. I no want Kyle hurt. I- I not eat Kyle more. Promise."

Kyle was wary, and with good reason. He had no reason to trust this alien, no reason at all. Everything was against his case. He had kidnapped him, defiled him, eaten him, but- But who else did he have? Kyle was alone. So very, very alone. Kyle was the alien, here, on this strange planet. He didn't have anyone he could trust, no one to ally with, share his pain. All there was, was Stan and Craig. So what did he have to lose? Trust Stan? Or ignore Stan, and be eaten. Which was the lesser evil.

The alien's slit pupils stared heavily at him, eyebrows furrowing as he made up his mind. After a long time, Kyle finally gave up and sighed. His shoulders slumped and he rolled onto his side, facing away from Stan. Stan continued to hold his hand.

"…Okay. I trust you, Stan. …Or maybe trust is the wrong word, but I- …I will believe what you say." It left a foul taste in his mouth and a bad feeling in his gut to say those words to this alien, but he had no other choice. He was trapped.

Stan sighed, as if relieved. "That good. Trust Stan, Stan know, Stan know Craig, Stan know what Craig _able_ to do-!" He felt Stan's hand tighten around his own, the shape of his fingernails forming on his skin.

But Kyle was tired, he didn't care. He was exhausted, and felt as if he could sleep the rest of his life away. Everything that had happened since that night all added up into one horrible feeling in his stomach, and a heavy weight in his mind.

What was the point, though? What _if_ Craig ate him whole, for good? The other scenario was that he lived here, with Stan, or something along those lines. Would that be any better? What did it mean to him, to live? He didn't have a purpose, now. All his life he had worked hard at academics to achieve success, made friends, planned out his life, _lived._ There was no other meaning to life other than to get the best out of it that he could, because he only had one shot. When he died, he would stay dead. He wasn't like Kenny.

What now, though? What did he have to look forward to, to challenge him, to _live_ for? There was no stimulation here with Stan, no challenges, just fear and sadness, and a constant longing for his home. In a different situation, he would be amazed and fascinated with scientific intrigue of how this strange planet functioned, how everything these aliens came in contact with functioned. But the disparity of it all made him apathetic. He just wanted to die.

"…Stan?"

They had been together in silence for some time, as Kyle thought and Stan did whatever he was occupying himself with as well. Kyle's ideas had made him depressed, and he wanted to take his mind off of it, even though he knew that sooner or later, he would have to deal with the questions. But not now. He was too tired.

"…Stan, why did you come back to this planet if you're so scared of Craig?"

In their period of silence, Stan had let go of his hand and had gotten up to gather up a machine that he was writing on even though he had come back to sit next to him. With this question, he immediately stopped writing, and paused.

"No choice, Stan make deal with Craig, can't say no, bad things happen, bad to Stan and Stan's family."

"…Family? I thought- I thought you and Craig were the only ones left on this planet?" Depression had been replaced by confusion.

Stan shook his head, and looked off to stare at the direction of the door. He didn't take his eyes away as he spoke. "Craig bad. Craig _bad_ bad. Home planet most us left, family and others stay, happy. Then alien Craig come, Craig say 'I conquer Stan's planet, Stan do what I say and Craig not kill you'. So Stan listen, Stan work for Craig, but Craig lie, Craig planet army come, kill Stan's friends, but keep family. Stan's family safe, only if Stan do what Craig say, Craig not scared to kill. But Craig need Stan, Stan know this planet, and this planet Craig need to win war."

"So- so Craig is not of your species? What- what war? Why am I here, what does it have to do with me?" Kyle was confused, and the more that Stan tried to explain, the more questions that he had.

"Big war," Stan said, looking over at him, "you not know, Kyle planet far away. Craig planet fight other planet, Stan planet in way, very strategic if Craig stay this planet."

The redhead sat up in frustration, having completely forgotten about his amputated and deformed fingers. "Okay, but why me, why did you take me, you told me first that you had no reason for me, that you just wanted to taste a human. But- but Craig told me that he sent you to retrieve a human for him, but why? Why do you need me, need a human? What part do I play in this, and if I play a part at all, why did Craig do _this?_"

Kyle held up his hand, furious, temper rising, and Stan's eyes widened, as if caught red handed in a horrible act. He stammered, and then stood quickly.

"I- I go, I go now, you rest, yes, you tired, need rest, need heal, hand hurt, need sleep, Kyle need to get better, Kyle too excited, yes, I go, I come back, Kyle sleep, Kyle stay. Sleep, yes."

The alien boy continued to ramble on as he walked quickly backwards towards the door, slipping out as fast as he could, the door opening and closing shut with a hiss. Kyle growled and looked towards the window. It was still during the dark period, and the plants were not out yet.

Something was wrong, and things did not add up. He had thought he was a meal, but Craig's words and Stan's confession made him feel uneasy. Maybe- he wouldn't kill himself. Maybe, for now, he had something to live for: the truth of why he was here.

* * *

Stan's heart beat quickly, and his blood felt cold. He was in trouble, he knew it. Craig didn't know Kyle had become suspicious, but he was lost. If he told Craig, he would be punished for talking about too much to Kyle, but if he didn't, then Stan might mess up, and everything would be jeopardized. Craig was smarter than he was, he would know how to deal with this.

Stan felt sick.

He hated this, hated every single bit of it, hated Craig, hated this building, hated what he had just done. He had said too much. If Kyle figured it out, then there was no hope. He shouldn't have tasted him, he shouldn't have eaten him, he shouldn't have _mated_ with him, but he couldn't help it, he was scared as well, and those things made him feel comforted.

The shelter was large, a representation of Craig's wealth and power, as he jogged down a flight of stairs to reach the alien's chambers. A couple of servants passed him on his way, and the guilt he felt whenever he looked at them returned. Thousands, millions, and billions more were suffering and would suffer because of him, because he couldn't sacrifice his family. He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to do good, he was good. Yes.

Running past many doors on his way, he skidded to a halt when he passed Craig's. Stan backtracked, wringing his hands together slightly before banging on Craig's door. He felt sick. He heard a noise before the door hissed open, Craig standing before him, angry as always. Craig glared up at him.

"I-" Stan faltered, always scared to be in his presence. "I think I told too much to Kyle, the human, I'm scared he might find out."

Craig growled and grabbed him by all four arms, pulling him into his room as the door slid shut. Stan yelped as the short alien slammed him against the wall. "You think you'd be competent, by now, Marsh," Craig hissed, gritting his teeth together, "but your stupidity is unrivaled. Why would you tell him, why would you tell him _anything!_" He emphasized this last word by slamming him into the wall again, Stan's head throbbing as it made contact. "With your family and the last of your race on the line, I thought you would have realized that this is _serious,_ I'm not playing around. Or is it because you love him, Stan? Did you fall too in love with your food, do you feel guilty of having his planet perish? What is more important to you, humans, or your own kind? Or did the mating cloud your mind?"

His eyes widened. "How did you-"

"-Know?" Craig finished. "Do you think I'm stupid? Remember who you belong to, Stan, remember what is on the line, here. You are my property. The human is my property, I will not allow it!"

This was the part he hated, when Craig kissed him, covered his mouth over his own. He did not want it, none of the times did he ever wanted, but he did not want to make Craig mad. …And Kyle did not want it, either. Stan's heart sunk. He did no good, no matter what, he did no good. By trying to save his family, others were dying in their place. To try and relieve his guilt and sadness, he hurt Kyle in a way that he couldn't heal. He wanted it over, he just wanted the war to end.

"You were gone a while," Craig said, his voice low, as he dragged him towards where he slept, "I had other aliens, but you are my favorite, you are boring and submissive, just how I like it. Now remember who you're loyal to, and remember what happens if you don't please them good enough." Craig fell back against the fluffy material, grabbing Stan, making him fall down with him.

Yes, Stan knew. He knew all too well, and that was why he jeopardized Kyle's life.

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**Review if you like plot with your porn.**


	9. Chapter 9

**So it turns out that I can check out laptops from my college library. AAAAAWWWW YEAAAAAH. So yeah, I hope to do a lot of updating this weekend. Sorry for the late as fuck update on this, it's getting near the end so- askdfjalsdkjf. I want to finish it so I can start another multichapter fic, though I'm not sure yet what I want to write it on. It might be Invader Zim since I fucking love aliens so much, but yeah, enjoy your vore.**

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War. There was a war and Kyle had never known. How could he have known? He was human, he was from Earth, so disconnected from the rest of the universe. Or at least, he knew that now. It was almost funny thinking back on it, back on how people had debated over the existence of aliens.

Kyle laughed harshly. Well, he knew now. All too well he knew, and he watched as many four armed aliens rushed past him.

Something had changed after his night with Stan. Stan hadn't come back that night, but he saw him in the morning with bruises and bite marks on his chest. It didn't take a genius to realize that Craig had been the one to hurt him. After that, Stan refused to look at him. On the rare occasion that their eyes did meet, Stan would blink and hurriedly look away, a despondent expression on his face. Kyle wondered what had changed. He remembered Stan's words, and was horrified when Craig took over… _care…_ of him.

First Craig had inspected his hand. He held it within his own, close to his face as he turned it over in front of him and dissected it with his eyes. Kyle could feel his breath on his hand, and it had made him shiver. Craig's eyes had flicked up to him, as he gently unwound to gauze-like fabric that Stan had applied. His fingers were smothered in a smooth tongue as Craig had popped them into his mouth, sucking them and running his teeth over them lightly as their eyes never parted.

After that, Kyle was always with him. It wasn't like being with Stan, who while terrifying, also had an underlying kindness and fear of him being hurt. Being with Craig was like being property, a slave to an alien who, surprisingly, for the most part, ignored him. There was no care or compassion there at all, and Kyle wasn't sure if he even had the ability to possess it. He only gave him passing glances and rough treatment. Craig's actions were as sharp as his words, sometimes shoving and kicking him out of his way.

Kyle didn't understand why he insisted on him sleeping in his quarters, or why he had taken him from Stan. He had realized, with a sinking sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he missed what Stan had been to him on the foreign planet. He shouldn't have meant anything to him, but he was the closest thing to an ally that he had. And without an ally, Kyle was alone.

But not really, because Craig's hand was in his hair and sliding down to rub against his neck and shoulder. That was the one thing, that Craig liked to touch him. Kyle hated it; he was not a pet, but too scared to say anything otherwise. His hand throbbed when he thought of fighting back, reminding him that his life was truly in his hands.

Craig shouted out in alien languages to the others of his species. They had landed on the planet a couple of days ago, and the palace was bustling. They didn't venture far outside, and ran back in quickly when the plants began to curl up and enter back into the ground. Scared of the dark, they weren't like Craig. But that was unfair to think that they would be, since Craig was a monster because of his personality, not his race. Kyle felt bad for the others that worked underneath him, learning that the four-armed alien was something of a king, and made the laws and rules of their home planet.

Something of the war had caused them to come, and Craig and Stan were constantly busy. They both talked animatedly to the creatures of Craig's planet, who were dressed more modestly. Arms were everywhere, and it was as if that was all Kyle could see as they bustled about and reported in. He didn't understand the language, and it sounded nothing like what he had ever heard. The strange chirping was becoming somewhat normal to him, when Craig suddenly stood up and made low guttural sounds. The creature in front of him shifted and relaxed, becoming submissive in its fear.

Craig made wide motions with his hands, and it scurried away. He grumbled and sat back down, calling over to another who brought him a plate of what looked like grubs. Kyle shuddered as he picked one up with his lower right arm and tore it in half, sucking the juice out of the middle. The carcass was tossed at his feet. Shifting, Craig laughed at the disgust on his face and offered him the plate.

"Would you like something to eat, my little disgusting human? Wouldn't you like to try a maggot such as yourself? Ah-" he closed his eyes and began to suck on another. "The taste is quite exquisite, almost as you taste. But not as fine. Juicier, but not succulent like a human." His eyes were cruel and calculating as he watched Kyle's revulsion.

"You are quite delicious, do you not know?" He pretended to quirk an eyebrow questioningly.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't," Kyle said with disgust, gritting his teeth, "I would never become a monster like you and do- that- to another living being."

"Oh, really? Because from what Stan says of your diet, you do. You are not a- vegetarian I think the word is- and you eat the Gashrinke so well. Gobble it up, he tells me. Oh, do not act like you do not know what it is. It is the drugged food I give you, to make you fat, more delicious when we eat you. And mymymy, you are gaining some wait."

Craig grabbed him by his hair and yanked him up. Kyle screeched and clawed at his hand, but Craig had superior supernatural strength and held him still at the throat while he lifted him to his lap. His windpipe was strained, and his blood rushed in his ears. Danger was imminent around him, and Kyle immediately stilled. Craig's eyes lowered as he looked down, the remaining three of his hands ghosting over his body.

"Oh yes," he said, pinching Kyle's side which had grown slightly over the past month, "you love the food indeed. Little carnivore. It's made out of meat, a type of creature in a neighboring planet. Eating it makes you no different from me."

"It is dead when I eat it, I don't torture it, I don't eat it alive." Kyle said, gasping, his face heating up as Craig pinched part of the fat on his stomach.

"But it is tortured before death to secrete an enzyme within its adipose tissue which gives it its addictive quality that you seem to _love,_" Craig squeezed particularly hard against his thigh with emphasis "so much. You're just as much of a monster as I am, do not pretend you do not eat and enjoy the taste of flesh that has suffered in its life."

Kyle quieted at this, horrified at what had been told to him. The food that Stan had always fed him- he had never known that it had been tortured. This made him think back to when they had been children, and saved the baby cows from being sold as veal, tortured their whole lives purely for human consumption.

"But you know what?" Craig whispered, leaning down slightly, his lips brushing against Kyle's ear. "I think I'm hungry now. What do you think, alien boy? Because I'm ready for a feast. It's been a while since I tasted you."

Blood rushed to Kyle's face as he listened to these words, turning cold at the meaning behind them. He had- Stan had- Stan had said he would not eat him any longer. But this was not Stan. This was Craig, a true monster, and he had made no such promise. Kyle knew how dangerous he was, how strong, and because of that he flushed deep red with fear.

"…No. Nonono." He laughed slightly, eyes pleading as he looked up at the alien. "You're joking, you have to be joking, I can't- I- I can't do it- I can't- please, stop! No, oh god, oh god oh god oh god stop now please, don't do this to me, I-I can't live through this-!"

His voice became hysterical as Craig started to drag him towards a table near the middle of the room. A couple of the aliens were sitting at it but Craig swatted their papers away onto the floor. They looked taken aback, and jumped up when Craig threw him down onto the table. His wrist throbbed from where he had been squeezing it, and jerked up out of fear. Craig grinned and pushed him back down, pinning him to the table with two of his arms, one on either shoulder.

"Stop! Stop don't do this!" The aliens had started to turn to look at them with interest at the commotion. Kyle's face was as red as his hair, both from fear and humiliation. He didn't want to do this. He feared the pain, ice cold searing hot pain that would be pinnacled at the impact of Craig's sharp teeth and his flesh. He did not want to be eaten in front of so many creatures.

"Be quiet, I like my dinner to be still." His eyes were wild as he looked down Kyle's body. The dark haired alien licked his lips. "Come and hold him down!" A couple of young ranking aliens looking on were called over, and they immediately rushed over at their commander's word. Craig let up just quick enough for them to wrestle his arms back down to the table.

Kyle shrieked and kicked out his legs, but Craig only chuckled. "Don't be so feisty, I assure you that you're delicious. I will be _sooo_ happy to taste you again, it's been too long, don't you think?"

"G-Get- GET AWAY FROM ME YOU- stop, please stop don't do this please! I'm scared, I'm scared!" And he was. It had been a couple of weeks since he had felt the pain of being cannibalized. But it was not cannibalism, as much as Craig looked like him (minus the two extra arms). Because he was an alien, and he could feel his alien teeth on his stomach, tearing the flesh.

His stomach was exposed, and he looked down to see himself bleeding profusely when Craig leaned back to swallow his fat and skin and- a bit of organ. His organs pulsed, and Kyle felt like throwing up. He could see them move, glistening with blood as Craig chewed his flesh. His breathing came in quick as he hyperventilated. Craig licked his lips, wiping the blood off from around the corners of his mouth with his tongue. The two at his sides' mouths began to water, looking at him hungrily. Those aliens who had not noticed the commotion before, now smelled the blood in the air, and had gathered around to look at him with longing.

"Look at him," Craig said, addressing the crowded room in English just so that Kyle could understand, "look at the human. See how plump he is, the way his blood smells and, ah- tastes. All of you will have a human to feast upon if we win this war. You are not fighting for nothing. You are fighting for your planet, for me, and to experience _this_."

Craig once again lunged forward, taking a piece of his thigh into his mouth and biting down sharply. His teeth were razors as they cut through his tissue, ripping it off in one fluid motion like a shark and chewing before gulpingit down. Kyle was on the verge of fainting, the blood loss getting to his head along with the absolute terror and disgusting of being _feasted _off of. His flesh throbbed, and he screamed out in pain. Writhing, Kyle screamed and screamed, threw his head back and wailed as hard as he could.

Tears flowed freely, and he couldn't help but sob. It was just too much. There was nothing left, he would always be here. A toy, a plaything_, _a meal for Craig as he continued to bite off pieces of his thigh and stomach where there was more muscle and fat. He had no friends, he had no family, he had no comfort of any kind to save him from the teeth that entered his body.

"S-Stan-" Kyle choked, his voice catching as he saw the alien boy throwing up behind a few of the soldiers. He watched him, longing to reach out for him and for him to save him as Craig drew designs on his chest out of his own blood.

"Stan? Oh no, Stan isn't going to help you. He's tasted you enough, you are all mine." Craig looked at him in a haze of lust while he began to pull down the skirt-like garment that covered his private parts. Kyle's mind was too far gone to hazard what was happening, and gasped as he felt something wet around his penis. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his back arching as he thrust up into Craig's mouth.

He couldn't help it. The pain was too strong and his mind was too foggy to register what was happening. All he knew was that this was temporary relief from pain, the searing pain that was shooting throughout his body in waves of agony. His tears did not cease, and he felt the aliens holding him down begin to lick at the blood that was pouring from his open and gaping wounds.

Craig's teeth brushed on the underside of his cock, which had responded almost immediately to the pleasure that was being inflicted upon him. He cried out instinctively as Craig began to pump him, kissing all up and down his erection and sucking the head for any hint of precum. It was as if he was famished, and Kyle remembered when Stan had feasted upon him in this way as well.

The pleasure was overwhelming, mixing in with his pain and creating a motley melting pot of agonizing pain and extreme lust, the two going hand in hand and building up a heat inside of him that he felt that nothing could ever top. His hips continued to buck up, thrusting back and forth into Craig's mouth, fearing for the safety of his private parts as they were so close to Craig's horrible teeth, but too tired to care.

"Stan…" Kyle moaned, his voice raspy from screaming for so long. He choked, hiccupping as the crowd jeered Craig on. His face burned with humiliation. Why wasn't Stan rescuing him? He said he would protect him from Craig, so where was he? Why had he abandoned him, why wasn't he saving him from this horrible torture? The sobbing returned when pressure began to build up in his abdomen, and he lost pace and began to rock wildly into Craig's mouth and hand.

Craig laughed, pumping him quickly as he fingered him and licked the tip of his cock. "Wonderful, wonderful, so delicious, my human… Mine."

Kyle's moaning increased with fervor, terror mixing with the pleasure and tumbling out of his mouth from his lips where it hung in the air. He could hear the noises he was making, the agony sounding sluttish. But he didn't care. He just wanted it to stop, to be over so he could go curl up and die alone in this strange world. But when Craig covered him fully with his mouth again and began to suck as hard as he could, Kyle couldn't take it anymore, and came hard inside his mouth.

Orgasm hit him hard. His hips bucked up furiously into the short alien's mouth, feeling his semen spurt out in intervals. Temporarily his mind was clear from any pain and fear, filled only with the feeling of wonderful pleasure and torturous heat. Nothing was ever going to hurt him again.

But all too soon the world came back to him, and Craig pulled away, gulping down the rest of his cum and licking off some that had dripped out of his mouth and onto his fingers. Kyle breathed heavily upon the table, blood pouring out of his wounds. The two aliens holding him down retreated, and everyone watched Craig as he closed his eyes with satisfaction.

One short minute was taken to recuperate, before Craig began to bark orders again. His whole front was covered with blood, and allowed a few of his favorite soldiers to lick it off of him. When done, they looked at Kyle with longing before retreating back to their blinking monitors and work places.

"Stan, clean the slut up, we need him in good condition."

There was a hand wrapping around his own, clenching it tight to a chest as he was carried away, his blood dripping onto the floor and echoing when they left the crowded control room. The hallways were empty, and he could smell that it was Stan, too tired to open his eyes while he carried him.

"I'm sorry. I scared." Stan's voice was low and quiet, full of fear and sickness. That was why he hadn't helped him. Fear. Kyle almost wanted to strangle him, but was too exhausted to do anything other than slump against his chest. His tentacle had started to pump the miracle medicine into him, his wounds starting the healing process of regrowing organs.

"Kyle not worry, I save Kyle. Stan no more be scared. Promise. Save family, save Kyle. Kyle go back home no matter what. Not know when, but Stan promise. I promise." His voice was determined.

* * *

It was a night period, and all of the foliage had gone back inside the ground to save themselves from the cold. Craig sat in his chambers, drumming his fingers on the desk and contemplating the next strategic move of his warships. Two spacecrafts had been destroyed that day from the opposition. The planet of Lagrenshen had been a disaster. The second his troops had landed, the native bacteria had infected their ships and weighed them down with algae-like crust. They had been vulnerable then to an air based assault, but had not realized that the enemy had been waiting in the bogs to attack.

Silently, Craig stood up and walked over to a map. He picked up a marker, and crossed out the planet on the map. The markings glowed, and illuminated his scowl. Suddenly, the screen behind him blinked to life, and Craig turned to face the monitor.

The reception was a bit fuzzy, but the face of a blonde humanoid alien turned to face him. He was dressed in green, and wore a pink beret, and smiled gently at his companion.

"What do I owe the pleasure to? It's late, don't think that you can send your L'Frewndka in to sneak around my papers and learn of our plans."

"Oh no no no, Tucker, I would never think that you would keep such important things lying around. I have no intentions of that. I was merely- checking in on our deal. You do remember, right? Bring me the human, and this can all end." He continued to smile, a cheery sound to his voice.

Craig stood up straighter, and narrowed his eyes. "Of course I remember, how could I not."

"Well, then, remember that I want him unaware. You do have the right one, don't you? You do have Kyle Broflovski?"

His jaw clenched, and Craig turned back around so that his back was facing the monitor. Clasping his hands lightly behind his back, Craig closed his eyes. To think, the war over, just for the one human. It was a small price to pay. "Yes, Bradley, of course."

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**Review if- WHAT THE FUCK BRADLEY? WHAT IS MINT BERRY CRUNCH DOING HERE. (oh god I jizzed so hard when I thought Kenny was going to be an alien, but I'll take Bradley as an alien too. Yes, he is who they're fighting.)**


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